The Drowned Kids
by 60sec400
Summary: It was Chat Noir's idea. To leave their identities and protect Paris. To become Ladybug and Chat Noir fulltime to defeat Hawkmoth. Ladybug just never thought she'd agreed to it.
1. The Beginning

**I don't own Miraculous Ladybug. Please read and review though!**

* * *

The first Akuma to kill someone was an architect in a dispute with city planning. The first person killed by an Akuma was an older lady from Germany, with greying hair and black eyes that Marinette distinctly remembered because she'd stared into them as she threw the Lucky Charm into the air, hoping and praying that that's all it would take.

And then the old lady was alive again.

She wheezed suddenly and loudly, and Chat Noir rushed forward to pick her up, holding her by one shoulder and her hand into a sitting position so she could cough. It appeared that she had no recollection of what had occurred and the razor sharp rulers that had pierced her abdomen had disappeared along with the blood that had gently pooled in the cracks of the cobblestone. Ladybug, because the chance to bump fists with her partner had disappeared too, had walked over to the Akuma and hefted the young man up. He stuttered as she did so, but she gripped the collar of his shirt like he was a dog.

"This has never happened before," Ladybug recalled saying, "so you'll have to wait a moment before you wander off."

"I don't know what happened!" the architect stuttered from the ground, "Was I an Akuma?"

But Ladybug just pursed her lips and stared as Chat and a citizen helped the woman up. She gripped Chat's hands in thanks, muttering some words to him in broken French before she kissed his cheeks and walked away with nothing but a "Tchüss!". Chat stared after her, thanked the man, and then walked calmly over the Ladybug and the Architect.

He frowned but said nothing and then crossed his arms over his chest. The Architect again stumbled through a series of words until Ladybug finally let go of his shirt.

"Are you okay?" she asked sharply, looking the man up and down. He seemed so much more mundane then the Akuma had appeared.

"Yes, yes, what happened? Who was that old lady?" the man asked, his eyes wide and desperate.

Ladybug glanced at Chat, who halfheartedly shrugged. What could they do? Lie? Plenty of the people who were now gathered around like a crowd had seen it. No use trying to keep it from Paris's knowledge.

"The Akuma killed her," Ladybug said slowly, "But you're not that thing. It isn't your fault." She paused a moment before she said, "And she's back now, so it's okay."

The man froze as if he hadn't quite expected that shocker, but nodded slowly and backed away. Ladybug turned away from a gathering crowd of reporters, lowering her voice. "We should leave, I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Agreed," Chat said with a nod. "I'll see you tonight at ten."

She snapped her yo-yo out, winking at him. "Will do, chaton."

* * *

They sat on some building in Montmartre, Ladybug's feet dangling precariously off the side. Chat leaned against the ledge, facing the other direction, where in the distance the Agreste Tower stood in one of the business _arondissements_. Ladybug stared at her black gloved hand, curling it slowly into a fist and then slowly letting go.

"I don't understand," she said, "how do these powers work? My Kwami is being strangely odd on the subject. Oy vey! She won't tell me anything!" She shifted a little in her position, turning to face her partner. "Did your Kwami say anything?"

"If he didn't explain things before, he most definitely is not now," Chat said vaguely, still staring at the Tower. "But doesn't it make sense, I suppose? You're Creation. Maybe it is more like an umbrella term, yeah? Life falls under creation."

Ladybug sighed and dropped her shoulders, the weariness from the fight and the death that day showing in her form. "But Life is… life! It doesn't inherently…," she gestured wildly around her, and if it weren't for the fact that her balance was much better now, she would have fallen straight onto the awning below.

"Na na nana na," Chat sang softly, chuckled, and then frowned. "Sorry. Yes. But I think you're wrong. The one thing we did learn. Abstract ideas, remember? Life isn't abstract, creation is. Thought is. Destruction is. We know Cataclysm destroys things, I'm very certain it could kill something. It took down the Eiffel tower, image if I touched a person's arm? Their head? Or—."

"I get it," Ladybug said miserably. "She was dead for seven minutes. Does she even know what happened?"

Chat winced, eyes finally leaving the business district as he turned to look at her. "My German is good, but not good enough to fully explain 'Hey, you died and came back to life through magic!' so no, I don't think so. But I did follow her home and made sure she was okay."

"Good," Ladybug said, "Send me her address. I talked to the police so they know what's happening. They'll be sending someone to explain and then make sure she's okay. I've never done this before, we don't know if there will be side effects. I mean… seven minutes Chat."

He nodded. "I know. I know. But it definitely opens up a lot and… we need to get our Kwami's to open up. We can't be going out blind anymore."

"Agreed," she said and nodded. "He's getting more serious. I have so much homework to do too."

He smiled at her, watching as she hefted herself up to stretch. "So, we question our Kwami's."

"Indeed," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. She looked over at him sharply. "You speak German?"

"And Chinese and English and Spanish," he replied, and then frowned. "Why? Or should I say, _warum_?"

She shrugged. "I just didn't know, that's all. I barely speak Chinese and don't even ask me about my English." She let her head fall into her hands before she leaned back. "We started at primary school, and you think with the number of—," she paused, turning red. She'd been about to admit that the number of American or British customers that came in to the store should have helped her but it really just made everything worse.

Chat laughed. "Oh? The number of what?"

"Nothing," she said airly, "you don't worry about it Chaton."

"Ah, ha, ha!" he exclaimed. "You almost slipped up!"

She rolled her eyes, rubbing the black gloves of her costume nervously. "I did not, and anyway we were talking about that lady and… and you speaking German."

He frowned then, picking himself up and standing next to her. They both stared out over the city, voices trailing up from below them and laughter bubbling up from the city streets around. He pulled her close to her, twirling her around so that they stared at each other.

"Would it really be so bad?" he asked. "It's been four years."

"No," she admitted, pulling herself away from his arms just after a moment. "It wouldn't. I'm not against it now, I don't think but…"

"But…?"

"But we shouldn't. Like we said earlier, Hawkmoth is only getting more serious. So should we," she breathed, staring up into his green slitted eyes. At first they had unnerved her, their unnatural shape and color on a human face had been startling, but now there was only a sense of safety and trust she couldn't get with anyone else.

"Agreed, but if we knew, we could only help each other," he said steadily.

"I… also agree. Give me some time, mon minou, and I'll get back to you," she replied, reaching forward to squeeze his arm. He smiled back at her before his baton beeped.

"I should go," he breathed, "you know me. Always on the run."

She laughed lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

He reached forward to kiss her hand, "Always, bugaboo."

* * *

The next three deaths happened two months after the first, the German woman, Frau Jutta Dunst, and took place separately between two Akumas. The first of the three was a small girl from Strasbourg visiting family with her parents, Amélie Proulx. She had dark hair and dark eyes and didn't move when the blade struck her chest. Her father was just a moment too late. The second, from the same Akuma, was an American tourist, Kayla Greene, and she was pinned to a wall by her throat, eyes half lidded and blank. The third, a different Akuma, and a native Parisian, killed a teenage boy named Nathan Roux. He was discovered some minutes after the thing attacked, slicing away as it shouted for the heroes of Paris.

Each time, Marinette fretted that Lucky Charm would fail. That they would not return, and the image of Amélie, Kayla, and Nathan would haunt her at night. Amélie, tiny and small, barely six years and half as small as Manon, would remain in her head as a dead body that had collapsed already gone into her father's arms. Kayla, where her eyes bore into Marinette's as Ladybug stood stricken, her hand half raised as if she could do anything about it. Nathan, not even whole anymore.

And yet, it never did fail. Each time, they would take another breath and forgot what had happened. They didn't remember death, or it's embrace or kiss. They did not remember their welcome into the arms of the end of everything. Ladybug envied them, if only because they would never know. Ladybug also praised the heavens, thanking whomever would listen, if only because they would never know.

Each time, she would shiver on that building in Montmartre, arms coiling around herself as she sobbed quietly into Chat's arms.

"I don't understand," she whispered, after Nathan, "I don't understand how they die and they come back. How can I be responsible for this? What if they never return?"

Chat did not reply for a while, he only held her closer. They listened to the music below, soft tunes and jazz whispering up into the air and lights around them.

"I'm sorry, my Lady," he whispered back, "But the cure is a gift and… and we should be grateful it exists at all. I'm sorry if that does not help, but it is the least I can do."

"Thank you Chat," she said. She pulled herself away. They bade each other farewell and left for their own homes, their own beds, and their own thoughts.

* * *

"Hawkmoth is killing people now. There's Akuma's at least four to five times a week, I'm failing half my classes and I think my father thinks I'm doing drugs," Chat said aloud. They were on top of the tower now. His feet dangled off. Behind him, Ladybug paced around the platform.

She made no comment about the mention of his father. "Don't even mention school, I'm fairly certain I will have to repeat this year."

He paused in swinging his legs. In the distance was the Arc de Triomphe, lit up brightly in the golden lights of the city. "What if we left?" he said quietly.

Her pacing stopped behind him. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't want to hear that kind of talk."

He wouldn't mention it for another three months.

* * *

They sit on the top of a school not in Chat Noir's district. It's early evening, just after dinner, and this neighborhood has mostly cleared out. Below, there's the faint sound of voices just hitting their ears, and far away in the distance is age old music.

He leans back against a wall, facing the East and watching Ladybug as she huffed and stared over the city skyline. That morning, a death by Akuma had occurred. But unlike the others, unlike those that came before, this one could not be undone. This one had happened after the cure. A man, stumbling with his footing after finding himself some fifty feet above the ground had been reawakened and fallen to his death. Other people had found themselves on roofs, on the tops of buildings— chimneys, stairs, balconies— all attempting to help the Akuma find Ladybug and Chat Noir.

His Lady's cheeks were red and every few moments she sniffled.

"We need to find him," she said eventually, turning to face her partner. Chat's eyebrows furrowed.

"We've tried tracking the butterfly's, but they just fly off wherever," he countered, frowning.

She nodded thoughtfully, playing with one of her pigtails. The ribbons had grown longer since she'd first appeared, and gently grazed the concrete of the roof. "I know. But there has to be a better way. We need to get back, faster. Stronger."

He flexed, grinning growing on his face. "This isn't enough for you, bugaboo?"

She laughed lightly, pushing him away from where he'd leaned forward. "Unfortunately, I think I've got you beat." She winked at him.

He laid a hang over his heart. "You always do." He paused a moment, thinking. He was afraid to speak, afraid that she would reject his idea again. "Remember how I said we could leave?"

Her smile disappeared and she looked at him sharply. A wind breezed past them, brushing her hair around her face.

"I didn't… I didn't mean that we should leave or abandon Paris. I meant, what if we left behind our civilian selves? Dedicated ourselves wholly to defeating Hawkmoth?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid the faint faceless voices of those below would listen and hear what he was saying.

For a long time, she did not reply. She'd turned her face away, squinting as the sun faded over the horizon toward the west. The world was lit of gold now. A brilliant orange and red streak burst across the sky, and then in the next minute it disappeared. Lights began to flicker on, and around them the sounds of the city grew almost stiller.

"And leave behind our families?" she asked suddenly, voice soft.

"I wouldn't be leaving behind much," he tried to joke, but it fell flat at her pained expression.

"You don't have anyone?" she said quietly.

"No one that matters to me, at least in my family," he answered truthfully, "Friends, I have. But I'm willing to give it up if it means we can end this."

"Where would we go? Where would we get money? What would our income be? Our housing?" she demanded, voice stern as she shot off questions. She rubbed her hands over her face.

He leaned forward, pulling his knees close. "I have a job, an income. It's not mine for another year, but I can start funneling it into an account that my fa— that can't be traced. And the money I've already gotten can be transferred securely. I know it. We could buy a place to live, our place of operations. Out of the way, nondescript, where we could easily enter and exit with no one seeing."

She paused then, peering around her fingers. "You've thought a lot about this."

He nodded, not afraid to admit anything to her. "I have."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She bit her lip, hand reaching to rest on his knee. "I'm sorry it's come to that for you."

He shrugged a little, heart thumping, and then smiled. "It's okay. Honest. And… and I would do it. In a heartbeat. Just say yes."

"You'd have to dye your hair, and I'd cut mine. We'd go missing, We would need to blend in completely, look as bland and as French as possible," she said, "and we'd have to let everyone go."

"I never thought bland and French would go in the same statement," Adrien joked. She smiled this time, her eyes flickering up to meet his. "But… but yes. We would."

She stared out over the city. "How long would it take for you to get everything ready?"

"A year," he said with certainty.

* * *

It did not take long for Adrien to realize how difficult it would be. Going around his father would be easier than going around Natalie, who managed everything in the Agreste house. He had connections, and not everyone in the fashion world was the best about keeping things completely legal. But most people were clean cut. His name did get him places though, and he found himself standing in a torrential downpour outside a ragged house in southern Paris.

Inside, supposedly, he would find a man who could help him create a new identity. A passport, an ID, a new life.

Getting there had been a nightmare. A model friend that Adrien worked with and had done several shoots with had mentioned, on a break down by the dressing rooms, that she would soon need a new fake when she returned to America. France had given her a cushy opportunity to drink while she was there, but she was only seventeen, and the age to drink was twenty-one back home. Adrien had hung back around the corner, back pressed intently against the wall. There were places she could go, and her French was decent, but she wanted a native French speaker to help her make sure she wasn't being ripped off.

Adrien straightened himself off the wall and picked his shoulders, rounding the corner.

"Johanna, hi," he greeted in English.

The girl froze, black eyes widening. "Adrien, bonjour."

He leaned against the wall, smiling down at her and the other model, Elise. "I heard what you were talking about. Is there any chance you could slide me that address?"

Johanna paused, glancing at Elise, and replied slowly in English, "Oh. I see. But, why would you need a fake ID?" There was legitimate confusion on her face, and she tilted her head to the side, brow furrowing.

Adrien shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. "Well, my father is interested in sending me to America to model. I'm quite used to our lifestyle here and I hear the parties in America are wild. I'd like a chance to enjoy myself the way I'm used to."

The girls both nodded, as if it made perfect sense. "I could let my guy know and send you the address. How does that sound?"

He picked himself up, smiling broadly. "Fantastic, thank you Johanna!"

And now he was standing outside the home, some several hours into the night, two weeks later. He and Ladybug hadn't talked about their supposed plan since that night. He wore the most nondescript clothing he could, headphones around his neck, a t-shirt, hoodie, black pants. His hair, long enough now to be pulled back, was in a small short ponytail behind his face. A few strands framed his face and he annoyingly pushed them back.

It hadn't been easy to escape from the Gorilla, and even then Adrien had had to wait to wait it out and disappear at Chat Noir. Plagg was being quiet about the whole deal, but did not advise against it in one of his few moments of unreliable wisdom. He had allowed Adrien to transform, gather the bag he'd stowed behind a roof, and detransform to change.

He stepped up onto the stoop and pressed the button for "Alexandre" on the fifth floor apartment. Three seconds passed before the door buzzed and unlocked. Adrien quickly swung it open and stepped inside, peering up the long winding stairs that would bring him to the man Johanna had recommended him. He paused to look down at Plagg.

"Am I doing the right thing?" he asked, voice low and nervous.

Plagg gently floated up to Adrien. "Make it rain, kid."

Adrien nodded and signed, opening up his pocket again, and then pulling out a ski mask. He pulled off the hood and slowly slid it over his head, uncomfortable with the way he knew he would appear to anyone who might find him. He began to take the steps slowly but deliberately, hoping that no one would leave their doors or happen to be peering out of the peep holes. He reached the fifth floor after only a couple of moments and, after one final long breath, rapt his knuckles across the door. He slid to the side and waited.

After only a few moments, the door unlocked and opened.

Adrien threw his elbow out. Alexandre yelped, his head snapping back as he stumbled into his own foyer. Adrien rounded the corner and threw his foot out into a kick. Alexandre stumbled back, his nose already bleeding from the first hit. Behind Adrien, the door slammed shut and he bent down to pick the man off the ground and slam him into the wall.

"Who are your contacts?" Adrien growled in English.

"Who are you?" Alexandre shouted, his hand grasping at the door behind him.

Adrien hooked his ankle around the man's leg and pulled it out. Immediately he fell down onto his knees, his legs crooked under him but not broken. His arms hung limply at his side while his collar was tight in Adrien's fists. The superhero hefted him up slightly, pulling onto his unusual strength, so that his knees and shins barely scraped the top of the floorboards. "I asked you a question," he said again in English. "Who do you know in the business? Who do you talk to?"

Alexandre, finally realizing he was not getting up anytime soon, scowled up at Adrien. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Don't lie to me," Adrien snapped, "I know you already had a girl in here earlier this week. American, pretty. Dark eyes and skin, light brown hair. She's tall. You've seen here?"

Alexandre, knowing he couldn't deny it, nodded. "Yes, yes, I helped her out. She made a request for an ID! That's all!"

"You're not the only one, people like you know other people like you. So tell me, who's the best guy you know? Answer or your face will become well acquainted with my knee," he threatened, even though it held no merit. Alexandre didn't know that, and the look of fear in his eyes told Adrien that.

"Nikolai," he said breathlessly, "he's a supplier, but he deals too. Mostly foreigners like you. German, he lives in 19th _arondissement_. _Porte da la Villette_. He hangs around a street corner, _Bastille Boulevard._ I can show you!"

"No," Adrien said, "anyone else?"

"Jean-Luc and a British man, Daniel Whitmore," Alexandre said, his voice desperate. "I can give you all the information! Do not hurt me!"

Adrien shoved the man to the ground. "If you know what's best for you, leave before I turn you in. And don't give that girl her ID. She'll manage without one."

He stalked past Alexandre, who collapsed onto his hands and knees on the floor. The door swung open and Adrien paused. "And don't speak a word of this to anyone."

He closed the door and walked calmly down the stairs.

* * *

Nikolai had been surprisingly easy to find. Adrien had trailed manage to pin point one of the many German speakers, one who seemed to meet with several people on his corner on Bastille Blvd. It wasn't easy but Adrien stood across the road, in a large jacket and hat on, staring at Nikolai with a neutral face. The German clearly noticed him there and it wasn't until midday that he stalked across the road to stand in front of Adrien.

"You," the man said in sorry French. "You keep staring at me, yes? _Bist du die Polizei_?"

"Police?" Adrien asked in German, "No, not police. _Kunde."_

The man smiled at Adrien's German, seemingly pleasantly surprised.

Nikolai rolled back on his feet, looking Adrien up and down. He wore typical men's fashion from Berlin, and Adrien only knew what that even looked like because of his father. The German man had a long nose and face, his eyes dark and his hair a deep blonde. His hands were shoved in his pockets. "You want to buy something from me? _Schiesse, du bist ein Kind."_

"Doesn't matter what I am, can you do a job for me?" Adrien asked, heart heavy with worry.

Nikolai paused and then shrugged. "You clearly have money. I don't care who you are or where you come from. What do you need?"

Adrien leaned forward, pulling his hat down. "Can we meet somewhere else? More secure?"

Nikolai glanced around them. " _Ja, komm mit mir."_

In the end, there would be no questions asked. Adrien was promised an ID, a passport, and new papers from the man. He handed Nikolai a small bundle of cash some several weeks later with a promise to return.

It was a good test.

* * *

Marinette curled up under her blankets, staring wide-eyed at Tikki. "If I cut my hair," she said suddenly, "will you be able to keep it longer when I transform?"

Tikki's blue eyes caught Marinette's, and the young girl was reminded that Tikki was much older than she appeared. "I can," she replied.

"Do you think what Chat Noir and I are doing is right?"

"Well," Tikki sighed, floating down to sit on Marinette's pillow. "What are your reasons?"

Marinette bit her lip, sitting up a little to get a better look at the Kwami. "For Paris. For France. To protect the people and to defeat Hawkmoth and recover the Butterfly miraculous. But I'm worried about… about my parents, and Alya and Nino." She paused. "Adrien. I'm scared that I'll leave and can't protect them even though that that's why I'm leaving."

Tikki nodded. "I don't think you're being selfish Marinette. Hawkmoth was already dangerous, and he's only getting even more so. I think what you're doing is selfless."

"Have other Ladybugs had to do this?"

Tikki flew up to Marinette and gave her a kiss. "Many have had to make sacrifices before."

"Yes," the girl replied, "Yes I know. I'm scared."

"That's okay," Tikki said sternly, "It's okay to be scared. If you weren't, I'd be concerned."

* * *

When she met with Chat Noir next, he handed held up a small brown package. "A new identity, a fake one. We'll need new everything. I have a guy we can go to now. He's… nice, pleasant. I think he knows something's wrong and he wants to help."

Chat handed the package over and Ladybug held it gingerly in her hands. She peered up at him. "And our identities?"

His eyebrows shot up behind the mask. "The ones we have now? Safe. I'll need all your information though. A new name you want, new pictures. I'm sequestering money away from one of my accounts, slowly, so that no one in my house will notice. It'll take some time to build it up but I have enough to get us a place."

Ladybug's shoulders dropped. "This is real." She looked up at him. "We're doing this."

"Yes," he answered immediately. "We are. Do you not want to?"

"I do," she replied, her voice shaking. She paused, closing her eyes, and breathed.

"I do," she said, voice strong. "We're doing this. This is for Paris."

"For Paris," he echoed, reaching out a hand to pull the package back. She let him take it.

"I'm going to cut my hair," she said slowly, "in my civilian identity. How soon do you need new pictures and… and everything. How close is this all happening?"

Chat Noir paused. "It will be a while. Keep your hair long for now, longer than you have it now."

"We're doing this," she said again, eyes meeting his.

"We're doing this," he confirmed.

* * *

In the end, it took Adrien ten months to move his money into a bank account that wouldn't ask questions and trade it all. Natalie asked no questions, assuming that, once he reached of age, he planned on separating himself from his father. Though, her not saying anything was unlikely, and Adrien figured his father was simply allowing this to occur. The account couldn't be traced back to him, though, so he knew it would be safe.

He found a small apartment not far from the outskirts of the city, one room with a small balcony and a space for an office. He stood in the center of it. It was dark, but decent, and it would be the hub of their operations. He told Ladybug about it and she agreed to visit it later when she got the chance. Distance didn't matter that much— they could travel anywhere in the city in under fifteen minutes they didn't stop.

"This is it," he whispered to himself.

The room was in an old building that had been mostly abandoned. Four floors, three of them abandoned. Adrien had purchased the building, left the bottom floors and resigned the two top ones for themselves. It was in a neighborhood that was bright with culture and people, but not determined to be a tourist stop by the rest of the world.

He looked around the room. It would do.

* * *

The building was paid for, he had his new identity lined up and ready to go. Nikolai was more than willing to cooperate when he realized that there was more to this than his general understanding. Adrien's money was gone into the separate account. Natalie had expressed concern over it, saying that his father was concerned over Adrien suddenly emptying his accounts.

He knew it wouldn't be able to go undetected.

And that was how he found himself in his father's study, standing rigidly as the man woefully argued and asked "what in the world was he thinking?"

"I want to be able to manage my own finances, father," Adrien said slowly, his voice neutral. "How am I going to be learn to run the business if I don't even know how to save and spend. Invest."

Gabriel pursed his lips. "University is a perfect place to begin learning how to manage a business. You know I expect you to make top marks and enter a business major, Adrien, you don't need real-world practice. How you even managed to get the money out is beyond me."

He'd created a new account under a new name and transferred out money, paying off the bank and teller to not say anything.

"I understand, father."

"You've clearly undermined my role as your father. You do not have control of your account. You do not make these decisions. I will decide what is best for you. Dismissed. Return the money to your account by the end of week. You're not to open anything new without my permission."

"Of course, father," Adrien said.

Fine by him. He'd be gone before Wednesday.

* * *

Marinette packed her bag and her computer. Most of her clothes she wasn't taking. Nothing that was indistinguishable and identifiable to her. She brought a couple of pillows, her blankets, and some shoes. Her desktop was packed carefully away and a small note was left on her desk. She stood in the center of the room. It was still full, still alive. She expected to never see it again.

It was dark out. Her hair was cropped short, barely brushing the nape of her neck. She'd pushed it back with a headband.

"This is it," she said aloud to Tikki.

"I'm sorry, Marinette," Tikki whispered.

"I still don't have a name," the girl replied breathlessly, "Should I go old-fashioned? Cosette? Or maybe modern, or American? I like the name Sarah."

"You'll figure it out," Tikki said.

"I know," Marinette breathed. "Are you ready?"

The Kwami nodded sadly. Marinette gave her a grim smile and then climbed up to her, now old, bed, and through the hole onto her balcony.

" _Adieu_ ," Marinette whispered, shutting it for the last time.

* * *

The room wasn't so bad that Marinette felt like it couldn't one day become home. She was alone with only Tikki. She dumped her bags on the floor and sat on the long couch that Chat Noir must have brought in. The _rolladen_ were down, shutting out any light that might have come in from the streets of Paris.

The door behind her opened.

"Ladybug?" a voice asked.

"I'm here," she said, voice strained. "I'm here."

She heard footsteps by the kitchen, something dropped onto the counter, and then footsteps closer to her.

"Are you…—."

"No," she said. "You?"

"No," he breathed. "I didn't look at the pictures you gave me. I haven't gone to him yet. I'm going tomorrow. Do you have a name?"

She stood up and turned on him abruptly. She could only see the bare outline of his figure, shaggy hair still long. He had a bag clutched in his fist. Hair dye for himself.

"I need to know who I'm staying with," she whispered. "Before we do anything else."

Chat paused, and hesitated. He slowly lowered his bag to the ground and backed up to a light switch. "Ready?"

She nodded. "Ready."

He flicked it on.

Her eyes widened. His shoulders dropped.

"Adrien," she breathed.

His eyes softened with love. "Marinette."

* * *

 _Fin._


	2. Maud Muller

**I don't own Miraculous Ladybug. Please read and review though!**

* * *

"I can make bread and some macaroons, and my Nonna gave me a small recipe book with all her favorite things from traveling but," Marinette rubbed the back of her head nervously, "I might have forgotten to bring that."

Adrien smiled, smacking down the dough with some conviction. "I can cook nothing, we had, have, a chef, but I was never allowed in the kitchen ever."

"I can make some soup?" Marinette said, tapping her finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Do we have internet?"

"For TV, yes, but I haven't set up any accounts yet."

Her shoulders fell, her mouth whispering a wordless "oo" and she did not say anything else. She was gently holding her knees to her chest, sitting at their small little island counter made of linoleum and fake tile. She glanced around them, Adrien kneading the dough per her instruction and the TV softly playing the news in the background. The curtains were drawn, but one of the windows was open, and Marinette took comfort in the sounds of the streets below.

 _"—has denied a statement, as reported by his secretary Nathalie Sancoeur. The refusal to answer anything has raised questions with public, especially following the case of Madam Emilie Agreste—"_

Adrien's head snapped up, his face pallid. Marinette turned slowly to look at the TV. She was at too far an angle to see it properly, but the light flickered and changed, throwing the shadows of the coffee table and couch around the wall. Plagg and Tikki both appeared suddenly from one of the rooms, their voices quiet as they murmured to each other.

 _"—following Madam Emilie Agreste's disappearance Monsieur Gabriel became even more of a recluse, shutting himself from the media and the world. The Gabriel Brand continued to produce work for several seasons since then but Monsieur Agreste has refused to speak about his missing wife. Now, with the disappearance of his son, police are looking into the possibility that Emilie and his son, Adrien, did not disappear on accident."_

Adrien's face had grown even almost impossibly paler, his hands limp on the dough. He wasn't even looking at it anymore, his eyes unfocused as he stared straight ahead toward the direction of the TV. Marinette's shoulders slumped even further, blinking her eyes. Tikki flew over to rest on the girls shoulder, her presence barely registering with Marinette.

Neither of them spoke, both listening in to the news caster. The voice was unfamiliar, and Marinette vaguely wondered if Nadia had refused to speak about her own disappearance, or if she'd simply not been given the opportunity. She felt herself standing up and walking over to the stand a little ways away from the TV, holding her elbows. The news anchor was standing in front of a green screen, clearly, but it was a picture of the Agreste Mansion.

 _"—not only has Adrien Agreste disappeared, but another student from the Collège Françoise Dupont has also mysteriously vanished. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has disappeared, several days after Adrien. There has been no comment from her family, although the bakery owned by the Dupain-Cheng's has closed for the week. Police are currently looking for a connection between both disappearances, though nothing yet has been found. Foul play is not being dismissed."_

Marinette felt tears prick her eyes as a picture of her family's bakery popped up on the screen. She turned abruptly to hop off the seat and disappeared into her room.

* * *

Adrien did not know hair dye would be so messy. Or that cutting his hair would be so difficult. How could snipping off a few key strands be so difficult? Marinette had tried her best to make himself look presentable, and he thought it looked fine, but even then she was a nervous wreck for the past week. She would hesitantly run her hands over his hair, making dissatisfied noises as she voiced disapproval with her own decisions.

But now they were doing the hair dye. He sat down on the toilet, facing the wall with an almost delayed giddy expression on his face.

Marinette was frowning behind him, her hands rested gently on his head. "Are you sure you want to do this? You're already unrecognizable with shorter hair anyway. And people spend hundreds of dollars to get their hair to _look_ this blonde."

Adrien tipped his head back to look at her. Her bangs were nearly gone and the two short pieces she'd had before no longer framed her face. He leaned forward again. "I need to look like a different person, isn't that right Plagg?"

"Don't ask me about beauty, perfection already exists within me and I can't go away giving my secrets!" the Kwami exclaimed.

Marinette giggled, and the sound made Adrien swell with happiness. "I think your Kwami is a little full of himself!"

"Plagg?" Tikki asked. "Full of himself? Perish the thought."

"More like, ugh, _Paris_ the thought," Adrien laughed.

Marinette dropped her hands from his head. "Dye your hair yourself."

"No! I want you to do it!"

The girl grinned, "I'm _kitten_. Let's get started."

Adrien beamed and behind him Plagg groaned.

* * *

Grocery shopping was hard. Adrien didn't know how at all to look for the right things. Checking the eggs? Smelling vegetables? Actually looking at the spinach or the lettuce? He'd had no idea until he'd come back into the apartment, Marinette leaning over the counter with a bad bag of spinach on the counter.

So they went Grocery shopping together. She'd been fine in the beginning, until she went about explaining all the things she did with her parents while shopping and then had been downtrodden all the way back to the apartment. They'd covered themselves with sunglasses and hand-me-down clothing. Adrien's brown, short hair left himself almost unrecognizable to himself. Marinette wore contacts, dark brown, and pushed her hair back with headbands from scarves.

They returned quietly. Adrien put the groceries away by himself.

He turned on some music and sat by himself quietly on the couch. Plagg lived practically over the fridge, living only off Havarti and the fresh Mozzarella Marinette insisted they buy. The Kwami lingered a few feet away, hovering above the small speaker Adrien had brought.

The apartment was an eclectic mess of their personal belongings. A sofa and the small TV, a police scanner Marinette had mysteriously shown up with one day, the speaker. The room had two mattresses and an empty office space that Adrien hadn't decided what to do with yet.

It was empty. It wasn't theirs, not yet. He couldn't figure out where to go from there. Did they hideout and only buy groceries? Nothing to do. They had the balcony and while the area was nice out, the last they that needed to happen was to be discovered or seen. Adrien had been sure to grab something far from any of their friends or classmates but Paris was a big city, and who know where everyone would be?

The door opened, Marinette stepping through with pursed lips. She stood tentatively in the frame, tapping her fingers together.

He sat up, almost moving to get up, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"I am… sorry for freaking out in the grocery store. Well, not freaking out, but like, you know, getting… I'm sorry for not helping out, I guess," she breathed, all the words coming out in one breath.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said quickly, "It's been two weeks. That's hardly enough time to get over completely leaving everything behind."

"Did we make the right decision?" she asked suddenly, eyes, still brown from her contacts, staring into his.

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"You're not," she huffed and looked up at the ceiling. She tapped her fingers against each other again, a nervous habit he noticed she had. "Not to say you're not, like, struggling, of course. But you—."

"I didn't leave much behind, Marinette," he said seriously. "I get what you're trying to say and I appreciate how sensitive you're trying to be, but aside from maybe Gorilla, there's not much I'm missing out. I… I'm fine. I mean, I miss my dad a little, but it's not like I have memories of going to the store and picking out tomatoes, or picking the music in the morning to make breakfast."

She stared at him, eyes growing sadder as he spoke.

He let out a shaky breath. "It's weird. I don't know. I miss him, obviously, but now I'm not trying to impress him. And I feel relieved. I'm living here, with you, and I'm away from home for the first time and I don't even feel homesick. I don't miss my room, I don't miss my big bathroom and my big dining room. I feel relieved and actually happy. I'm sad, but not because I lost something I didn't want, but because I realized I didn't really any anything to lose in the first place," Adrien explained.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, "I don't know what that's like. I don't know if I can relate."

He blinked. "That's okay."

"But," she continued, moving to sit next to him on the couch, "I am always willing to talk about it with you, and listen. And even if," she breathed out shakily again, "I don't understand, I am here."

He smiled brightly at her. "Thank you, Marinette, and I am here for you too. You gave up more than I know."

She smiled tentatively back. "For Paris."

He nudged her shoulder. "For Paris."

* * *

Ladybug tugged at her ponytails. They were slightly longer than before, but she supposed Tikki had done that on purpose. Her hair was short now, in her civilian identity, and Marinette knew that keeping her hair long or longer as Ladybug would make the connection between herself and her knew identity more difficult to presume.

Adrien, with short dark brown hair, looked strange now with his longer blond hair. He stood some ways away from her, as Chat Noir, twirling his baton in his hand. The Akuma victim lay two meters away, sobbing on the ground of the street. Rain poured around them. Ladybug stood up, the white butterfly fluttering away from them, and walked over.

"I didn't want to!" the girl hollered, "He made me do it! I didn't want to!"

Ladybug leaned down over her, resting a tentative hand over her shoulder. "Hey, hey."

The girl jerked away, pulling her shoulder away. "He made me do it!" she shrieked.

Ladybug did not reach for the girl again, only turning briefly to glance at Chat. He stood over the two of them, still twirling the baton, staring out into the deep rain. Ladybug turned back to the girl. "What happened?"

"He made me," she sobbed, "He made me! I didn't want to!"

"Please," Ladybug insisted, adding force to her voice. She felt a hand touch her from behind.

Chat was behind her, shaking his head. "Leave her. We need to get her some help, she doesn't know anything."

Ladybug felt her shoulders drop and she nodded, moving to stand up. The girl gripped her wrist. Ladybug's eyes snapped down, blue meeting brown.

"He made me do it," the girl whispered.

Ladybug jerked her wrist away, looking at Chat.

"I'll take her," Chat offered, his voice low. She could tell he was shaken by the girls now sudden strange calmness. She was too, her wrist aching from the surprisingly strong grip.

She turned and slung her yo-yo up, running and jumping onto the building above. Her feet found the roof soundly and she was sprinting through the rain. The girl's hysteria was unnerving. Most people were left confused. But the girl had been de-evilized and then immediately burst into tears, shrieking and screaming.

It was unnerving. Ladybug did not like that stare the girl gave.

She didn't like that at all.

* * *

Magali de Bien liked flat colors; she liked blocky and bold when she needed to be. Black, white, and timeless looks. Different from before, when she loved polka dots and casual jackets. Big hats were her friend, and large round sunglasses. Her hair was short, and she favored headbands now that it scuffed the nape of her neck. The good thing about needing to be unrecognizable was that it did not take a lot to blend in in Paris. There was a certain style, an air, about people who were not tourists walking around.

And, she could make her own clothes.

Magali was also Marinette. And Marinette loved making her own clothes.

The matter was getting cloth. She could no longer go to the store that she used to, and she couldn't exactly order anything yet. Tikki was wary of her leaving the apartment at all unless she was Ladybug or they were getting food. While Ladybug had the mask and the advantage of being, well, almost always at a distance, Marinette's face was plastered around France's televisions with people specifically looking for her.

She had never thought she'd ever have to hide from the police. And those big boulevards were not coming in handy. She would never have thought that she would ever have to hide in her own home, but now she was Ladybug fulltime, at Paris' beck and call.

Magali was secondary. Marinette was an afterthought.

But slipping into a new identity was not as difficult as she would have thought. She'd already done it once, and, really, what was a second time? She liked being Magali de Bien. Magali was more confident, too, but stuttered when confronted with something she wasn't prepared for. Magali was less sure in her step, eyes always looking for a familiar face that she did not want to meet. But she was also sure about discovering things.

Marinette was a good shopper, and quick. She was in and out before the hour ended, and the market was only a few blocks over from the apartment. She could also zip through people and not hit any of them. She could also duck into a side alley and into a door frame if the time called for it. Having practice transforming on near crowded streets was a plus.

She didn't walk place most times, now. She usually only went out transformed, necessity was huge for the two of them. Adrien determined they had about 6 to 9 months before they could go out with covering their faces at all. She also noted that he was struggling becoming Leo Goff much more than she was at becoming Magali.

Leo Goff had short brown hair and his sense of style was jeans and whatever t-shirt he got his hands on that wasn't connected to Gabriel at all. He'd also been building the identity of Leo since he'd given the persona to Nikolai to do with what he wanted. But he didn't respond to Leo and Marinette often caught him staring blankly into the distance whenever she talked about their new identities.

Plagg, the poor Kwami, was being very quiet. The Kwami was no known for being open about how he was feeling, but had come to Tikki, and then to Marinette, about Adrien.

She'd noticed he was struggling to become someone else.

She didn't think it would be a difficult subject to bring up.

Marinette leaned against the door frame of the apartment, looking into the kitchen. Adrien, Leo, had light music playing, and he was singing very quietly to himself as he made them a salad for dinner that night.

She bit her lip and glanced down at her feet.

Maybe another time.

* * *

The Akuma was big and bold, much like the colors Magali de Bien liked, and it made a lot of noise. The person's hands had become large symbols and with each bang a huge boom reverberated through the large boulevards of Paris. Ladybug was blown back, smacking into a building with a car and several large bricks.

She fell to the ground, landing on her feet, and slung her yo-yo up to land on a roof. Chat landed across the road on a different roof, holding his staff in front of him. The Akuma raged below, slamming the symbols together and throwing another shockwave down the road.

"No one listens!" it screamed. "Well, now they'll hear!"

Ladybug sprinted off the building and leapt down. The Akuma had barely managed to look up before the hero's feet connected to the shoulder pads. They fell to the ground, the symbols smacking the cobblestone with a sharp resounding clang. Ladybug rolled off into a crouch.

Chat landed next to it, his baton elongating to and resting by the Akuma's neck. "I wouldn't," he warned.

Ladybug rose to full height, looming over the Akuma. "I want to speak to Hawkmoth," she said, her voice low. The Akuma's expression wavered, confused for a moment, and then the purple butterfly appeared over its face.

"Ladybug," the Akuma said, the voice becoming flat and dangerous. "I suppose I cannot say we're meeting face to face the first time, but this is as close as it gets."

The hero narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest, but said nothing.

The Akuma's face turned mocking. "What? You request my presence and then say nothing? How rude. Such a child."

"What do you want?"

The Akuma's face froze. "Speak your mind. Elaborate. Best not to leave your guests questioning what you want to say."

She suppressed a shiver that rolled down her spine at his tone. "What do you want with our Miraculous?"

The Akuma's eyes narrowed, and for a split second Ladybug felt bad about using the Akuma to force a chat with Hawkmoth, but it was the only way.

"Answer the question," Chat said, tightening his grip on the baton.

"Quite the hero, we are," Hawkmoth said, the Akuma's face turning toward Chat. It looked back at Ladybug. "Have you ever read the poem of Maud Muller?"

Ladybug frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"The rest of the poem is mostly mindless and frivolous, a story written for those who seek love. Nonsense," the Akuma rolled its eyes, "But one of the verses goes as this, 'For all sad words/ Of tongue or pen/ The saddest is these/ It might have been'. My story isn't done yet, Ladybug and Chat Noir. And neither is our fight. I do not have much left in this world, but I do know this while I am living in it, you are brave. And brave children make mistakes. My might have been is coming, and soon… soon I will know all that was meant to be."

The Akuma shivered then, it's eyes turning white and rolling into the back of its head. It gave a hallow sort of gasp and shivered. Then it fell limp.

"Break the sash," she whispered.

Chat reached down and pulled the sash from the Akuma's body. It took her a second to realize her queue and so she threw her yo-yo into the air.

"Miraculous Ladybug," she said without heart. Swarms of magical ladybugs filled the air and swarmed around them. When they finally cleared, all that's left were two heroes and a band student, her symbols lying next to her in a heap. The girl stared up at the two of them, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

"I didn't want to do it," she wailed.

Chat kneeled down. "I know, we know. It isn't your fault."

"He made me!"

Ladybug shuddered and turned away. She looked down the now perfected boulevard.

It might have been.

* * *

Marinette's favorite holiday, aside from Christmas and New Year's, was definitely Bastille day. She loved parties and the festivals and her parents always gave a glass of wine and some Champagne. People were out on the streets and tourists were making fools of themselves galore. All around, it was good fun.

Marinette, Magali, whatever, had lamented about the loss of such festivities in the light of their new home and lives. Maybe, she had said over breakfast, Magali doesn't like celebrations and prefers to stay inside all day and avoid notice. Adrien, Leo, had a look come over his face and then suggested that maybe they could do their own small Bastille day.

They spent most of their days like this. A light breakfast with coffee, sometimes on the balcony but most times not. Adrien listened to the police scanner and Marinette drew or fashioned clothes and talked with Tikki and Plagg. Lunch was the main meal, heavier with a soup or sandwich or whatever Adrien or Marinette had picked up to make that week at the market. The afternoon typically led to an Akuma, though sometimes they even interrupted breakfast, and then dinner was spent in recovery or eating lightly.

Their own small Bastille day was okay, an idea Marinette, Magali, was fond of, and suggested even getting decorations. Tikki shot that down, saying they had a while to go before they could just leave for frivolous things like that.

It was true, but that didn't make it easier to hear. But Marinette was also tempted to leave, but that would mean Tikki would know because, well, she went everywhere Marinette went.

So Marinette instead opted to watching the festivities that morning on television, drinking coffee, without Adrien. The boy had gotten up early in the morning, disappearing from their apartment without a word. Tikki frowned in disapproval the whole morning, but Marinette and her had calmly agreed that neither of them could stay cooped up in the apartment the rest of their lives.

The door swung open, and Adrien entered with a take-out breakfast, a bottle of white wine, groceries, and several small French flags.

He grinned at her surprised expression. "I thought we could celebrate our own Bastille day! Breakfast is for now, wine is for later. I bought us some food to make dinner together. I thought that would be fun," he exclaimed, smiling brightly for the first time in what felt like forever.

Marinette felt a matching smile grow on her face.

It was a good day, and dinner was lovely.

* * *

"You can do it, Marinette!" Tikki exclaimed, her bell voice excited as Marinette once more slammed her head on the table.

"English is so dumb!"

"Agreed," Plagg voiced from his position in the fruit bowl.

"It is not," Adrien disagreed, eyes scanning the basic English text book, "Come on, my lady, you got this. As the American's say, _this is lit._ "

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "That's not how you use that!"

"Oooohhh," he drawled out dramatically, "So you know how to use that but not say you played tennis yesterday, properly."

She spluttered, hands slamming down on the table. "Those are exclusive, Adrien!"

"Are they?" he asked, holding up the _English Grammar and Basics_ , "Just wait when you're fluent and we move on to German, _der, die, das_ and pronouncing every letter in the word."

She snatched the book out of his hands. "You look too happy about that."

" _Es freut mich sehr!"_

She glared at him and said in low, accented English. " _I cannot understand you."_

He looked gleeful. "There you go!"

"Argh!"

* * *

"There is 'its' and 'it's'!"

"You said the same thing!"

* * *

There was a death that morning, early. The Akuma had happened at night. There was no explanation for the Akuma, only that is was there and real and active. Ladybug did not arrive on the scene with Chat Noir until three hours had passed.

The civilian had been dead for one hour and forty-seven minutes. It was the only death this time, and a weeping mother stood over the body. It was still early morning, barely seven, the sun had already risen though. Gold rays struck the streets of Paris, not sparing a grieving mother and a white sheet.

Ladybug was a mess. Or, rather, she was calm, focused, and sharp. In other words, she felt she had to be. Her mind had been running over her and Hawkmoth's conversation in the recent weeks and now there was this. Mindless and foolish, and she'd been happily sleeping in her bed when it was Plagg waking her up, his face uncharacteristically desperate. For a split second, she'd thought something had happened to Adrien.

And when she found out it was only an Akuma, she'd felt relieved. That relief disappeared when she saw the white sheet and the body being carried away. A woman, dark hair and a sharp nose, stood sobbing. She spoke broken French, but Marinette got the gist.

This was not meant to happen.

And then she was angry. Because the Butterfly miraculous was supposed to do good. It was supposed to help. It was turned into this perverted _thing_ that controlled people and left them not in control of their own bodies. It was turned into a weapon that tore a mother away from her daughter on their vacation.

She turned back to the police officer. "Where did the Akuma head?"

The officer blinked back at her as if surprised that she was speaking to her. "Toward the Arch," the officer glanced back the body bag. "Will your cure…?"

Ladybug shook her head. "I don't know. I didn't want to find out this way." And then she turned and leapt into the hair, her eyes narrowed with deadly focus. She was angry.

Hawkmoth couldn't get away with this.

Her yo-yo cracked against the Akuma's malformed monster head. It snapped to the side, the things arms swing in the other direction as it fell to the left. It rolled back to its feet, the sword in his hand glinting in the early morning sun. Ladybug squinted her eyes.

"Get rid of them!" it howled, the Akuma looking like a figure from one of Marinette's childhood storybooks of French Tales. Some cross of a Knight and a dragon, a mask over the monstrous horned head.

"Get rid of you?" Ladybug asked, her voice lighter and far calmer than she thought it would be, "With pleasure!"

The yo-yo slammed on the concrete, which broke with a shattering _CRACK!_ The Akuma's eyes widened and launched to the opposite side, rolling and landing on its feet. It had yet to ask for their miraculous and Ladybug wasn't even honestly sure where Chat was. She pushed herself forward, leaping over a small traffic gate, her feet meeting with the Akuma's chest. It fell back and she flipped and landed on her feet.

"Now where are you?" she muttered to herself. The Akuma's head was large and horned. In one hand was a large sword, the other was curled in a fist. The entire Akuma was covered in hair.

The fist.

The Akuma had risen to its feet now, turning just enough to look at Ladybug with a dangerous glint in its eyes. Chat had been right, of course, these were getting dangerous.

It lunged for her.

She dropped to the ground and rolled to the side as its feet smacked down where she had been standing. A fist connected with her face and sent her sprawling all of a sudden. She groaned and opened bleary eyes. The Akuma was stalking toward her. Where was Chat?

Quickly, she pulled herself from the ground just as the Akuma brought its sword down toward the concrete. It slid through the ground like it wasn't there and with a grunt, it began to pull. As it yanked it free she pushed herself forward and fell into a kick straight to the things face. The Akuma stumbled back, the hand holding the hilt of the sword letting go.

"Chat! Grab that sword!" she yelled desperately, hoping he was near to her.

She kicked again, this time with more force than necessary, and the Akuma went sprawling. A small crumbled piece of paper fell from its hand that she quickly snatched up.

"I don't understand," she snapped, "why you think you can just _kill people_!"

The Akuma looked up at her blearily, eyes almost unfocused.

"I don't understand," she repeated, "why you think you can just take people and _make them do these things!_ " And then she tore the paper in half.

The butterfly fluttered out as the Akuma outstretched its hand. She snatched it with the yo-yo before it'd even had a chance to fly away. Black magic engulfed the Akuma as soon as she said the words.

She turned around before it had completely faded and the butterflies disappeared into nothing, sprinting toward the girl and her mother where she'd last seen them, pulling herself up with her yo-yo and slinging her body over the buildings of the city. This time, she did not stop to wave and say hello to people.

The Sun had risen more above the buildings. It struck her with hard orange and cold and she squinted her to see where she had left them alone. She landed some few meters away. Chat was still there, that's where he'd been, and he was watching with a concerned expression the girl that had died hugging her mom and crying.

Ladybug turned to him. "Where were you?" she demanded, angry.

He looked down at her, their height difference more noticeable in their suits. "Relax a moment. You defeated the Akuma, I assume?"

She paused, face growing red. "Yes," and then she folded her arms across her chest, "Where were you Chat? I needed you!"

"I was needed here," he said calmly, "And you had it handled. That mother she…" he shook his head. "Sometimes being a hero is needing to stay back from the fight and help out in other ways."

She let her head drop to her hands. "I'm sorry, you're right." She let out a long breath. "Is the girl…?"

"I don't know honestly," he said, "The Ladybugs swarmed her and she woke up all of sudden. Scared the hell out of the paramedic. _Oh, Seigneur_ I even jumped. She just started screaming all of a sudden and," he shuddered, "It was bad. It didn't even last that long. She just broke down into tears and then you got here."

Ladybug nodded, biting her lip. Her earing beeped. "I'm sorry I got to angry I just…" she shook her head. "I got mad. Really mad. At the Akuma, at this situation. I was a little too rough. I shouldn't have gotten mad at you."

He frowned. "Why were you mad at me?"

She touched her earing self-consciously and hesitated, stumbling over her words. "I, uh, I was mad because you weren't there to hold me back or tell me to stop. Which isn't fair!" she exclaimed, "I know that! I shouldn't have to expect you to be there to help me hold in my anger and… I shouldn't have been that angry in the first place."

Her earing beeped again.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "You're right, you shouldn't have been. But I forgive you." He glanced back at the girl and her mother. "We can definitely talk about this later, though. You should get going."

They couldn't let anyone know they knew anything about each other. They couldn't leave together and head back toward the apartment. Ladybug nodded, pulling away. His arm fell. "I'll see you next time, Kitty," she said, giving him a small salute.

* * *

"Tikki, twice now I haven't used Lucky Charm and still been able to cure the city, and… and I," she let out a shaky breath, "How can I be saving those people? How can I bring them back to life?"

Tikki frowned. "You're creation, Marinette, in more ways than one. You were born to hold the Ladybug Miraculous, the Miraculous of Creation. As you get older, you get stronger. The Miraculous is what you make it—."

"But Chat has Cataclysm," she interrupted, "Only Cataclysm. I have Lucky Charm and the Miraculous Cure. We're supposed to be partners right? What kind of balance is that?"

"All in time, Marinette. People grow at different rates, and we unlock things at different times. Knowing Plagg, he hasn't stopped to talk to Adrien about, well, anything. You two are Balance. It will make sense, Marinette."

"But it doesn't _right now_ ," Marinette snapped. He pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sorry, I'm sorry Tikki. I just… we need to understand our powers to fight Hawkmoth. I can't make you say anything. But we need to learn."

Tikki frowned, looking away and out the window of the bedroom. Marinette was curled up in her mattress, waiting for Chat to get back.

The Kwami looked back at her. "Okay. You're right Marinette. You've been Ladybug for four years. Going on five. We need to talk to Master Fu."

 ** _To be continued…_**

* * *

 **Guess who lied... just a little. I wrote more! This story got such an overwhelming response. Though, with the way this is going, I'm going to have to actually start writing this in my notebook and making plans and plot points. Might do some art as well. We're also getting a bit into the lore and I want to stick pretty close what has been established in canon. What has not is... totally free reign and it's about to get exciting!**

 **Changing this to be an unfinished fic, though I will go back and edit the first chapter to be read "stand-alone" if the second part isn't as satisfying. This is simply a continuation of an idea that was intended to be a one-shot and only a one-shot. It was open ended and meant to be up to you where the characters went from there!**

 **Thanks! See you in another 13 pages! ;)**


	3. Circles

**Hey... what's up? Been a while. Last semester beat me to the ground. But I'm happy to say that I am planning on writing and illustrating my own children's book this semester/year. So I will be a bit busy with that! But I do think about this story, and it is something I want to finish! So yeah! That's all! R &R! Thanks!**

* * *

Marinette stood outside her parents' bakery some many meters away, staring up at the familiar building as morning light flooded across Paris and the Seine and her old bedroom. In her hand was a coffee. Her hair, so short now, cut and cropped and held up with a large headband. A large pair of sunglasses covered her eyes because returning to a familiar spot was dangerous. If Adrien knew, well, he wouldn't say anything, because Marinette knew he sometimes sat outside his old house.

He did not, unlike Marinette, Magali, talk about his father and things he missed. Small notions of something new he'd remark at. 'Dinner is much nicer with someone to share it with, Marinette,' or 'I'm not used to sharing my evening with someone' and then he'd laugh it off and turn away or change the subject, unknowingly or purposefully Marinette did not know.

She often found herself missing small things she did not know about. She was also not used to providing for herself. Waking up after a nap and wanting to light some candles only to find that she and Adrien had not bought any candles and her evening would be lavender-less. Above, in her parent's apartment, she could see a candle she'd gifted for Christmas burning already in the window. Still early morning, Marinette was not surprised to see her parents already awake. They had, in fact, likely been awake for several hours already preparing the bakery.

A waiter appeared at her side, pouring more coffee into her cup.

" _Bonjour_ ," he greeted, "Does the mademoiselle require anything else?"

"The check, please," she said, not taking her eyes off her mother's form in the window.

It would not do well to sit and be recognized. She knew her old neighbors well, they had watched her grow up. The last thing she needed to do was been seen by someone she knew. She's almost run into Alya a few weeks ago by the tower, so she and Adrien agreed to avoid the tower altogether. Too many tourists anyway. And besides, Marinette was busy training.

And she had a meeting with Fu this morning. That was really the reason she was home. Or, at least, in the neighborhood. Tikki squirmed under her jacket and Marinette snuck some of her banana bread to the Kwami. She finished off what she could of the coffee and turned back to her notebook. English, as encouraged by Adrien. He had her writing it all down in a notebook that they went over together. She leaned over it.

 _'I like coffee'_ she wrote. And then, _'I like dark coffee.'_

He wanted her to learn German too, but her heart was more set on Mandarin and the little she knew of it. Simple sentences. It would help to not be recognized. As far as anyone she used to know was concerned, Marinette only spoke French. A woman who looked like Marinette somewhat but only spoke English or Mandarin was far less likely to be recognized as herself. And she went by Magali now anyway.

The waiter arrived with her check and she signed and left a few coins as a tip. Gathering her things, Marinette was off down the road. She avoided the bakery and surrounding buildings, going around the long way to Fu's place. The roads were beginning to swell with people by then, and Marinette swerved in and out and around people. The door to the shop was open but the sign said it was closed. The bell rang when Marinette opened the door.

She walked down the hall, Tikki appearing beside her and flying ahead.

"Hello?"

"In here, Marinette!" Fu called, from the room with the Miraculous.

Marinette arrived to see the man in his characteristic Hawaiian shirt and khakis, his Kwami floating next to him whispering silently to Tikki. Marinette practically collapsed onto the mat but tried to keep her expression cool. She mostly likely ended up just looking tired and Fu gave her a raised eyebrow.

"Tired, are we?"

Marinette gave him a small smile. "A little, but no more than usual. Thank you for meeting with me, Adrien and I have been… figuring things out. We need all the help we can get."

Fu nodded and sipped his tea. "Yes, I can imagine buying a home at 19 is stressful."

Marinette winced but said nothing, only looking away. Fu stared at her until she looked back up, eyes hard. "I need to talk to you about my abilities."

"Ah," was all the old man said.

She lowered her voice to a hurried whisper, as if this was the only chance she'd get to say anything. "I can bring people back to life, Master Fu."

He nodded. "Yes."

"And yet I still have a five-minute timer. Do you remember a few years ago when he finally fought Hawkmoth? In person? He said that we were still so weak with our unrealized powers that we still ran out of time. If I can bring people back to life but still have 'unrealized powers', what does that mean I can do?"

Fu looks at her with a steady eye. "Creation and Destruction drive everything in the world. Before there was protection or illusions, or subjection there had to be creation and destruction. They are balancing forces and everything falls below them. There are other words for creation and destruction. Life and death, beginning and end, a cycle. You are familiar with the concept of Yin and Yang. Or the Triskelion. It is the same. You are creation and Adrien is destruction. Just as something can be created so can it be destroyed."

"Death is destruction," Marinette argued, "So how can I bring someone back?"

"If something can be destroyed than can it not be recreated?"

Marinette paused. "Then what's the point?"

"I'm sorry?"

If Adrien can destroy something just so I can bring it back, or if I create something just for him to destroy… then what's the point?"

"Such is the cycle of life. A dying plant can be saved by a plucked leaf buried in the dirt."

Marinette looked away, brow furrowed as she thought his logic through. "Adrien and I, we're equals."

"In everything you do," Fu replied.

"Is there a limit?" she asked, looking him in the eyes.

He frowned and looked down, back to his tea, which had grown cold. The Kwami's were silent, watching the exchange with wide eyes.

"Only the limits we instill in ourselves."

She nodded. "How do I get stronger? How does Adrien?"

Fu huffed and turned away with the change of topic. He poured more tea into his cup and some into another one for Marinette. She didn't touch the liquid in front of her. "The miraculous pull from the strengths you already possess and give you some you do not. If you train to lift more when you are yourself, then as Ladybug you will be even stronger."

"I can already lift a bus," she said, "With ease. What else could I possibly be lifting?"

"An Akuma can be stronger and heavier than a bus. And these are not the only things you will fight in your lifetime as Ladybug. The Miraculous are magic. Magic exists, Marinette, and of course the Miraculous is the not only magic to exist. Some magic is very good, some is not good. Creatures of Magic lurk and live in unknown places. Do not mistake that other dangers exist outside of Hawkmoth," Fu explained.

Marinette nodded, surprised. "I didn't realize that. Are you talking like witches and enchanted apple trees?"

Fu seemed to juggle the thought. "Witches exist. I do not know about any enchanted apple trees, unless you speak about the Tree of Life, which does not exist on this plane. At least, not fully, and regardless it is not in France. It does not matter, regardless. But know that these things are out there and are as dangerous to you as Hawkmoth, if not more so. But there are also friends, there."

"How do I protect myself from the dangerous ones, then?" Marinette asked, wishing suddenly that Adrien was here to help remember all this.

"With your own magic," Fu said, shrugging, "Magic provided by the Miraculous. Tikki is creation. So create."

* * *

Adrien put the salad down on their dining table, rubbing his hands together gleefully. Marinette stared at their burning candle with a numbness she didn't realize had been there.

"How'd the meeting with Fu go?" he asked, sitting down. He poured them both a glass of wine.

Marinette swirled the drink around in her glass, pursing her lips. The sun had yet to go down, their apartment still flooded with late afternoon light. The TV on, Tikki and Plagg watching the news, sound circulated around them like a dream. Outside, cars honked and people talked. Marinette didn't feel like she was there.

"– _Prime Minister to meet with key figures from the European Union. The Northern Irish backstop, which has been at the forefront of Bre–."_

Marinette sighed, throwing her head back. "Didn't leave me with much," she admitted. "Except Fu all but practically admitted that we need to figure it out ourselves. Oh, and magic like actual magic like witches and apple trees and all that exist."

Adrien blinked. "Apple trees?"

Marinette kept going. "And oh! Oh yeah! Our powers are practically limitless! That was a whopper! What am I supposed to do with that information? 'Only the limits we instill in ourselves' my ass!"

"Marinette!" Adrien exclaimed, his lovingly made salad forgotten.

"No, no! I came to find out how the hell I'm bringing people back to life! Back to life! And you know what he says? Oh, well creation and life and death and destruction and all that happy stuff is synonymous! They cannot exist without the other! They are intrinsically connected! Can't go without it!"

She dropped her hands to the table. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

Adrien waited for her to continue but she remained silent, staring into the salad.

"– _It's unlikely that new talks will begin. The Irish border has been open for over twenty years. No one wants a hard border in Ireland, but the EU states that–."_

Adrien pushed the bowl of salad away. "What should we do?"

"Me? Why?" Marinette asked, her leaning into her hands. "I don't know what to do. I don't even know how to get strong aside from, like, lifting weights or something and I don't even know where to do that. We can barely leave the house as it is, let alone go to a gym or something."

"True," Adrien agreed.

"Tikki," Marinette yelped, "what do you think?"

The news forgotten, the small Kwami floated over to their table and rested on the napkin holder. Plagg followed close behind, green eyes wide.

"Our powers are dampened when we go into the miraculous, but they don't have to be that way," she said slowly. "Hawkmoth doesn't have to recharge because he's unlocked and grown strong enough to stay transformed."

"But how?" Adrien cut in. "We've been at this for almost five years now, the only thing that's changed if Marinette's outfit. And that's completely surface."

He was right, too. Marinette thought briefly about her costume and then shook her head. "We have the magic book. Fu's been training me to read it. But he won't let me actually go through and _read_ it, if you know what I mean. He never answered my question, he just left me with more. Hawkmoth can stay transformed, why can't we?"

Tikki frowned, blue eyes almost glazed over. "Yes, yes I know. I'm sorry Marinette. We should've been more open these past few years."

Marinette shrugged. "We can't be left in the dark. That's not how this is going to work."

She looked at Adrien, who nodded. "Right?"

He gave her a narrowed eyes a grin. "Right."

* * *

Having an entire building to oneself meant there was more than enough space for the two to spread out. The building was four total floors, the third and fourth the living space. The third floor now housed Marinette's computer, well, her laptop. She'd realized that taking her actual desktop would look like she left deliberately. And while this was the truth, they didn't want to give any clue to the fact.

Her laptop sat on an old desk which someone had left out to throw away, and so she and Adrien had returned in the middle of the night to grab it off the street. Adrien had been ecstatic about painting the room. But the _roladen_ on the third floor were always closed and drawn, meaning it was mostly dark except for the artificial light. Which was, unfortunately, an overhead light that had seen it's installation sometime before the second world war. A police radio sat by the laptop and several cables ran out from it.

Adrien had one day, almost four months into their new lives, come home with two televisions. And so, above the laptop sat two large flat screens that played the news 24/7. Beneath that was a baby monitor that ran between the upstairs and the downstairs so they could listen to the news at the same time as cooking and relaxing in between attacks.

It was a wholly amateur system, but Adrien believed that with time it would grow to function as a well organized and thought out way to be heroes.

The downstairs had also, by default then, became their hub of information. They transformed and practiced down there and left from the third-floor windows when they could. Marinette, as Magali, tried to make the upstairs as homey as possible. And it worked. The downstairs was Kwami and magic business. Upstairs was home. Marinette bought candles. Adrien bought flowers. Marinette bought a floor rug. Adrien bought a coffee table and a bookshelf.

It wasn't until four and half months into their new life that Marinette looked up at Adrien with concern on her face, "We won't run out of money, will we?"

Adrien didn't so much as blink. "Unless you can run through 12 million dollars in almost five months, I think we'll be fine."

Marinette blanched. "12 million?!"

He looked up lazily from his magazine. "Yeah, why?"

"Adrien, what!? How did you get that much money?"

"Well," Adrien shrugged, "some of it was already saved. But my dad barely paid attention to what I did with my money. And more often than not if I wanted something he'd just get it. Plus, like, being a famous model pays well."

"No kidding," she breathed. "I mean, you're keeping track of the finances and stuff, right? I've been saving receipts."

He laughed. "Marinette, we'll be fine. Most people can barely go through a million dollars in a few years. I've budgeted us out completely, food and housing and bills and all that. I did love math in school," he cocked his head to the side in thought, "And anyway, don't worry about it."

She slumped into the couch. "So, we don't need money."

He shook his head. "Nope!" replying in English, popping the P. "Why?"

She pouted but remained silent. He looked up, concern written on his face when she didn't reply. She was slouched over on the couch, Tikki patting her head. Sunlight streamed through their tall windows.

"Marinette, why are you asking?"

She pursed her lips and then opened her mouth. "I want to do something."

He put his magazine down. "Like, a job something?"

She nodded. "Like a job something."

Adrien frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She fell back down onto the pillows. Plagg yelped and zipped out from behind them, huffing as Tikki rolled her eyes. "I know but I'm… I'm bored. And I know it's unreasonable because, well, I'd have to leave at a moment's notice because of Akuma's. So, it doesn't really make sense to get a job but just sitting here doing, aargh! Doing nothing is the worst!"

Adrien nodded slowly, turning his body toward her. "Maybe we could take on a side project?"

Her hands flew up into the air where he could see them. "Like what?"

He shrugged and then realized she couldn't see him. "I know. There has to be more on magic out there than the miraculous book, right? Maybe we could research that."

"Magic," Marinette repeated.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Huh."

"Imagine if we could do spells or something!"

Plagg burped and then shook his head, having moved himself several inches through the air with the force it emitted. "You _do_ do spells. Cataclysm and Lucky Charm are spells. Duh."

Tikki looked suddenly displeased but said nothing. Marinette shot up from the couch and both humans stared wide eyed at the Kwami's. "What?"

The small cat Kwami rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously, what did you think they were?"

"I don't know…," Adrien said honestly, then shrugged. "I just… uh… I just thought they were… magic… words."

"Magic spells, yes," Plagg agreed. "Magic spells use magic words. Connections, kid."

"But it's just one thing, and then it doesn't even last," Marinette argued. "What good is that? I can only summon lucky charm once."

Tikki cleared her small throat. "That is because it takes a lot to summon something from nothing. And it takes a lot to forcibly destroy something. But it's possible to perform more than just lucky charm. The states of transformations are not the only upgrades and abilities you can have. The first is your transformation holding."

"And how do we do that," Marinette asked.

Adrien stood up and stretched, magazine forgotten on the table. He walked over to the other couch, falling on to it with a large _THUMP!_ Marinette's brown eyes, because she still had the contacts in, followed him as he sat. "I'm not sure," he said honestly, and then looked to the Kwami. "Any ideas?"

Tikki looked at Plagg and then spoke very slowly. "Meditation is the first step. But… finding magical places and being in them is also a good place to start."

"Magical places?" Adrien asked, "Like what? Surely, there can't be any in Paris."

Tikki seemed to toss the idea around a bit, and looked hesitant to reply. Plagg said nothing, but when the two Kwami's made eye contact he gave her a small nod.

"Magical places are difficult to find, yes, but not impossible. At least, in Paris. Other places they are easier to get too or find. Think of it like an energy, a place where it's strongest. Like gravity is on Earth compared to higher up in the atmosphere. It collects together, flooding through everything around it, and it settles there," Tikki said, her voice soft as she spoke. Plagg was nodding along.

"Like Fairy Circles, or a henge," he supplied, tearing a small napkin up piece by piece.

Tikki nodded. "Exactly. Sometimes it creates the space, like the circle, and sometimes it collects there because it's been given importance, or the materials are inherently magical. Either way, they're far easier to find in Nature than in a city, but they can exist here."

"You're not going to find a fairy circle anywhere in Paris," Marinette said, brow furrowed, "or a henge."

"Those are both circles though," Adrien said slowly, looking up at the Kwami's, as if an idea had just clicked in his head, "Is that a magical shape?"

Tikki shrugged, "It can be, mostly if the place has been given enough importance."

Adrien looked determinedly at Marinette and said, "What's the largest circle in Paris?"

She blinked owlishly at him and then snapped her fingers. "The _Arc de Triomphe!_ "

"Exactly!"

Tikki nodded, smacking a napkin piece from Plagg. "That could be it! You usually don't go there in the suit or out of it, so I've never noticed, but yes!"

Marinette nodded, sitting back in her chair, surprisingly pleased. "But what do we do once we get there?"

Tikki tapped her small paw on her chin. "Try mediating there?"

"That could work, we can head there after the next Akuma," Adrien said, looking to Marinette. She paused, hesitated a moment, and then looked him squarely in the eyes.

"Yes, we'll do that."

* * *

The next Akuma did not come for almost a week. In that time, they certainly could have made it, but they wanted to wait until they really needed to be out. Through the baby monitor came the cackle of the police scanner, quick rapid French and codes for the police and that both of them were trying to learn, and then it cracked off. Marinette paused washing dishes and Adrien came from the bedroom.

It was another child Akuma, this one wrapped in purple ribbon like a dancer. Haunted gold eyes stared out from beneath the glowing ribbon, it's body conformed to bones; ribs stuck out and attempted to suck in heady breaths, sucking in and out. And its feet, the only thing not covered in ribbon, were gnarled and twisted.

It limped around full streets, grasping at anyone that came near it, its ribbons snapping out like tendrils. Slowly, they in turn were wrapped in piles of glowing purple ribbon and disappeared altogether.

Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared quickly on the scene, police already moving to clear the area. The French president was in town that day and they had to get him to safety. But it was a slow moving Akuma, with its twisted feet and boney structure. The Akuma barely looked like it could force itself to breath, let alone win in a fight.

"What's he playing at?" she muttered to herself.

Chat was by her side at the ready only a few meters in front of it. The purple butterfly has briefly appeared in the Akuma's face before it'd lunged at them and forced them back. He shivered as another one of the ribbons snapped at them.

"I don't want to find out what happens when you disappear," he replied, smacking a ribbon away with his baton.

"We know he want's something," Ladybug said, and the leapt up as another tendril snapped at her feet. "He want's the miraculous _for_ something."

" _Give them_ ," the Akuma breathed, its ribs pushing out with a breath full of air to simply say the words. It sounded like woods, late at night in the fall, all the leaves and trees barely touching and rustling together. A whisper of something just barely heard.

Ladybug almost didn't, for a moment. But it seemed when the Akuma spoke all the sound around the area was sucked away for it to speak. She swung around a street light and looked around. This wasn't an Akuma they could touch, not the first time this had happened, but it made taking whatever the object was away from the Akumatized person so much harder.

"Chat?" she called, and the leapt away from a purple tendril. It snapped into the cobblestone and cracked part of the ground. She shivered and ran behind several parked cars. The Akuma was slow, thankfully, and even a brisk walking pace seemed to outpace the limping creature. "Any idea where the object it?"

He was some ways away, tugging his baton away from a ribbon wrapped around it. "Head!" he yelled, and yanked the baton away as he did so.

It must've tried to say something, as Ladybug felt all the breath suddenly leave her body. Steadying herself, she closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She peered around the cars. Sure enough, a hint of a small hairclip was clipped to the ribbon, golden, like the eyes, and in the shape of a rose. She could do this without lucky charm. She didn't need it.

Ladybug jumped forward and out from behind the cars, a ribbon snapped the Audi, the car cracking in half. She waved her arms and yelled, "Hey, Hawkmoth! Don't you have something better to do!"

The butterfly briefly appeared and the Akuma's face contorted into rage, leaping forward.

Ladybug gripped the Audi's now front half by the bumper and twisted, throwing it at an alarming speed toward the Akuma. "Chat, _now_!"

Chat didn't hesitate before he leaped up, his hand suddenly covered with cackling dark energy. It barely brushed the car before it shattered into dust, covering the Akuma with rust dust. The thing halted, it's gold eyes wide as it choked on air is could barely breath. It tried to gather air around to breath. Marinette ran toward the Akuma, the creature's eyes wide as it realized it couldn't breathe.

It pulled at its throat, falling to its knees, and heaved in a huge breath. Ladybug hurriedly snatched the object from the ribbon, coughing as the dust settled of the Audi. A dismayed cry came from behind them, but Ladybug snapped the object in half. Chat appeared at their side, leaning over the girl without touching her shoulders.

"You're okay," he whispered.

The purple magic covered the girl, leaving a child of maybe only 12 in between the two. She didn't remove her hand from her throat, coughing and hacking into her other hand. Chat's face became panicked, his hand resting very softly on the girl's shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, "Breathe, breathe. I'm sorry."

The girl wore a small purple tutu and ballerina slippers, her hair pinned tight into two small buns. She kept coughing.

Marinette's mind flew at lightning speed and with hardly a second's pause, she threw her yo-yo into the air for Lucky Charm. Magic swirled around them and then, from the sky, dropped a small red and black polka-dot inhaler into Marinette's hand. She kneeled down and put it into the girl's hand, "Take this."

She and Chat shared a look with each other, eyes both full of worry. The girl sucked in two puffs of the inhaler before letting out one final cough and nodding that she was alright to both of them. Tears streamed down her face and she gripped Chat's hand as tight as she could. Marinette held the inhaler in her hand.

"I just wanted to do well," the girl whispered in French, "I just wanted to do okay."

Marinette frowned and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "You did amazing," she whispered.

She threw the inhaler up in the air and whispered the magic words.

* * *

It was windy when they both ran to the Arc. He'd come from the South, patrolling a small part of the city where there hadn't been any Akuma's lately. She had come from the West, restocking on some cookies, and then transforming to head straight to the arc. It was hard to secretly meet on the top of a famous landmark, especially one that had so much traffic, but Marinette knew how to use the yo-yo, and slipped up before anyone could blink. It was Paris from yet another perspective. It was one thing from the rooftops. It was another from the Eiffel tower. But staring at a boulevard that had existed well before most countries in Europe had been a thing from a monument with a design going back thousands of years, it was a sight the behold.

Her black booted feet swung at the top. The city radiated out from beneath her, thrumming with millions of people. Lights and cars and laughter drifted up as faint sounds. In the distance, the tower shone like a beacon. She smiled softly to herself and wished for a moment that her family was here to see this.

Adrien appeared a moment later, as Chat, his already messy hair windswept and blown back. It was blonde again as Chat, and she noticed he touched and prodded at it more than he did with his shorter hair.. He plopped down next to her.

"Feel anything?" he asked, staring out at the _Champs-Élysées_.

She laughed lightly. "I don't think it's that easy. Tikki said we'd have to do a bit of meditating."

He frowned and looked around him. "With all the honking? Ooh, that looked like it could've been an accident."

She shook her head and smiled. "With all the honking. _Oy vey,_ I hope we can figure this out. I don't even know what to expect."

"Definitely glowing hands."

"Glowing hands?"

"Yeah, like magic glowing hands. Like in Skyrim or something like that," he replied, wriggling his fingers at her.

She shoved his hands away and picked herself up from the side of the Arc, jumping from the ledge. "Maybe Harry Potter," she said, "But I don't have a wand."

He smirked and patted the baton, but then winked. "I do!"

"You're a tease!"

"Only for you!"

Blushing, she sat down on the ground, folding her legs beneath her. She patted the space in front of her, windy whipping around them, and Chat sat across from her. He looked solemn suddenly but they both closed their eyes.

The wind did not touch her.

She felt it blowing around her face, around her still form on the arc, but it did not cause a single shiver up her spine. Ladybug held her back straight, her hands rested and folded in front of her. She tried to feel magic creeping up along her hands, along her up her body toward her head, toward the miraculous.

Was it gathered her? Magic rested in lived in strange places. It filled cracks in the ground and in old wooden beams and in reflections. It twisted itself into dark alleys and hidden places. It lived in Nature, in the trees and flowers. It bloomed in all sorts of colors. It flooded toward the south, toward the sea and down into the deserts and forests and jungles. It rested in old traditions.

It shifted and twisted toward snowy mountains and far too the east, settling as a mist that never seemed to leave. Or blossoms that bloomed and covered every surface of the Earth. To the west, it was days of rain and whispery woods. And far west it rested in-between spaces, nowhere and everywhere.

In France though, it gathered in the old places.

Marinette opened her eyes just as Chat did.

"Anything?" she asked.

He shook his head slowly. "Nothing."

* * *

 _ **To be continued…**_

 _ **Thanks! Leave a comment and let me know your thoughts! This chapter was broken up a bit between when I was motivated between my computer breaking, school, work, and life stuff. If it's a bit disjointed let me know. I don't feel like this one was 100% the style of the first two and I want to get back into that. Let me know! Thanks!**_


	4. The Man on the Horse

**So. Hello. I'm alive and dying. Last year of college. Still working on my kids book. Semester just started so RIP me but I think about this story a lot no worries. I did have to go back and re-research a lot of the stuff I did because it's been a hot sec. Also work is. A lot too. But this is twice as long so we've got that going for us folks. Also started learning Irish, so dia daoibh folks. Make good choices.**

* * *

Adrien tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, but he'd grown in the few months since they'd been away. Shrugging down and hunching his shoulders to make him look smaller only did so much. His hair had recently been cut and the sunglasses Marinette had recently bought him rested on his face. Across the street, Nikolai stood on the corner smoking a cigarette. He hadn't appeared to notice Adrien yet, but he was staring down the street with his drooped eyes, smoking, with one hand shoved in his pocket.

Adrien hadn't told Marinette that he was going to meet with the German forger. But since their magic searching stint hadn't worked, Adrien figured that maybe they needed to go a different route. Looking outside of Paris or even France. Not that either of them could leave at the moment. But Adrien was thinking further again in the future. He'd been to the library a few times, but any books on "magic" were more fantasy teen books than actual books on magic.

Which was fair.

But regardless, Adrien was the one who had ventured out and searched for anything on magic that they could find. Plagg was more or less quiet, but even he expressed disappointment at the lack of _anything_ at all for Adrien and Marinette. But there _was_ magic. And maybe it wasn't in the Arc, but it did exist. Adrien had felt it; in the small places, in the happy and the sad places. Down in the terrible and lonely places. And in the places with the largest of joys.

He shook his head; either way, Adrien was doing his best. Even if it wasn't becoming entirely clear to either of them. He would have thought, of course, that magic would have been an easier feat to find. Plagg had come to him partially out of fate and partially out of chance. If real life magic existed then they needed to find it. But the Arc theory had let to… not quite nothing. Adrien had felt that semblance of magic. He'd felt it in the air! Hell, he'd felt it in the wind blowing his face and his hair.

But it hadn't led to substantial magic.

It had, however, led to him standing out by Nikolai's location, watching the German forger smoke cigarettes and squint menacingly into the boulevard.

He was also trying not to get noticed. If the forger indicated he'd seen Adrien, he hadn't let on. But Adrien had briefly seen Juleka and Rose crossing a street some few hours back when he'd been slowly making his way here. The resulting panic had, thankfully, not caused any trouble. But Adrien's breath had hitched and he'd barely managed to backtrack and take another route before almost coming face to face with them.

He didn't know why they were there, but he'd warned Marinette over the burner to stay away from that street for the time being. If it was a place they frequented, they needed to avoid it.

Nikolai shifted where he stood and threw his cigarette on the ground. Adrien straightened a little and watched the German make eye contact and cross the street to where Adrien stood.

" _Ach_ , _warum sind Sie hier_?" the man said in a low voice, "What brings Leo down here this good day?"

Adrien straightened and frowned at his fake name. "Leo was looking for some advice."

"I'm a doer," the man scoffed, "I do. But what I do _not_ do is talk. Or give out advice." He looked Adrien up and down. "You've gotten taller. The hair is nice, too."

Adrien patted it down without thinking. "Thank you, Magali did it."

Nikolai leaned in closer. "I'm surprised you're still in Paris. France at all, really. Thought you were trying to leave."

"Can we talk about this somewhere else?" Adrien asked, suddenly nervous again about being seen or overheard. The streets here were busy during the day. Thankfully no tourists but lots of Parisians. Lots of people who might've seen Adrien's face on the news and know he was the son of Gabriel Agreste, famous fashion designer with a missing wife and a missing kid who may or may not have run away, according to the police reports.

Nikolai nodded and turned away, nodding to Adrien with a curt 'follow me' and began stalking down the boulevard with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Adrien hurried along, feeling slightly out of place the longer it went as they got into the less desirable places in Paris. It wasn't longer than thirty minutes before Leo had turned swiftly down an old building that had clearly seen it's peak many years ago, stalking down a set of stairs that went down into a cellar.

Making sure Plagg was still safely stored in his shirt pocket, he followed Leo down the stairs.

* * *

Marinette stood outside the flower stand with one had on her hips and her other hand on her cheek.

" _So many options_ ," she muttered in English under her breath. Lavender, lilacs, lilies, marigolds, buttercups, daisies, roses. All her favorites. All pretty and bright and colorful and would look nice in their dark apartment.

An American couple next to her eagerly payed for the lavender, smiling at her as they passed on their way with the new flowers.

The old man at the stand smiled at Marinette. "And, for you?"

"I'm not sure," she said slowly, "I want something that will last. And that is smelly."

He laughed, handing resting along the table that held heaps of pots and bulbs and flowers. The stand itself was nestled in between several vegetables and flower stands. It was a busy street. But Marinette had her bandana and her sunglasses on. Her hair was cropped back and short again. The man had a bulbous nose and bright green eyes, crows' feet around them and laugh lines on his face.

"Have you thought about growing something yourself?" he asked, reaching for several pots with bulbs in them. "There's always something satisfying in creating new life, yes?"

Marinette thought about the plants she'd grown on her old balcony and then again of the dead eyes of the people she'd brought back to life. "…I guess," she whispered, tone shifting downward.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry. I've upset you," the man said, frowning, "We don't have to fear new life and new things, yes?"

"I guess not," Marinette replied, "I just want to do something nice."

"Ah, don't we all," the man said, "We all heard the call."

She looked at him sharply, "The call?"

"I believe some tulips would be a nice addition, yeah? Or would you prefer something already grown? How about both, yeah? It'll give you some practice, free of charge. You have a lot of learn," the old man exclaimed. He shoved a pot with a bulb and some dirt into her hand and a bundle of lavender in the other.

"Free of charge!" he said happily. He winked, "Call me Grannus."

Marinette blinked.

And then he was gone. And so was the stand.

She turned.

He'd completely disappeared. The stand, the flowers. The only thing that lingered was the faint smell of flowers and rain. She looked down at her hands.

"Tikki?" she whispered, "What… was that?"

The little Kwami flew into the bundle of lavender. And when she poked her head out, her blue eyes were shining with hope. "Magic, Marinette!"

][][][

Marinette paced the downstairs room of their apartment, one hand under her chin and the other crossed across her chest.

"I don't understand it, exactly," she said, "What did he mean by the call?"

Tikki had looked ecstatic the whole way home. She'd barely been able to hide in Marinette's jacket, let along contain the glee and wealth of information that seemed to pour out of her freely. Previously, and for as long as Marinette had known her, the Kwami didn't let things slip. She guided Marinette, yes, but generally allowed the girl to come to her own conclusions. Whether they be right or wrong. So long as Marinette learned something from it was, really, the point.

Concerning any information about her powers or the Kwami's, she was even more tight-lipped. She did not speak about it. And, when she did, she spoke and chose her words very carefully. She spoke with thought. A good quality to have in a leader, but a good quality to have in a mentor, too. Plagg, on the other hand, appeared to be more matter of fact about his statements and information. He said it off-handedly, under his breath, or as a joke. And certainly not when the situation called for it.

But now, the Kwami of creation practically vibrated with happiness. Her eyes were wide and her grin was large. She flittered up and down the room and around Marinette as she paced, excitedly answering questions.

"The call! You and Adrien spread magic out in the circle the other day! It must've been enough to bring people to you!"

Marinette paused. "Isn't that bad?" she asked.

The Kwami froze, tilting her head to the side in confusion. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, Grannus–."

"Don't say his name," Tikki warned, brow furrowing and her voice low. "Names are… off limits."

Marinette frowned. "Don't tell me they hold some sort of power. He told me to call him that anyway."

But the Kwami nodded furiously, "Oh, yes, they do. Names, Tue Names, allow power over oneself, but also, they can be spelled or traced and tracked. Names can mean someone is listening," the Kwami glanced around the room as if suddenly worried, "Or alert others to their presence. Don't say a name if you can help it. I agree, I don't think the man would give you his Name if he didn't want you to use it, but it's a good to start practicing restraint in that area."

Marinette nodded along with the whole thing, shuffling to the desk chair to slouch down into it. "So, what, if someone said Ladybug, I could know about it?"

Tikki shook her head. "No, Ladybug is not your True Name. Do you know what it is?"

Marinette paused, about to say Marinette. But that didn't feel quite right. Magali didn't either, and that was faker than even Ladybug. She cast her eyes downward, suddenly ashamed, "I don't know."

Tikki rose up suddenly to look her in the eyes. Dark blue, almost grey, meet bright almost cyan. "It takes time, Marinette, don't worry." She floated back up and away. "I understand what you are saying, about the others, about people coming and hearing your call and some being friendly and some not at all."

Marinette rose, frustrated. She brushed ff the True Name nonsense and focused on what was important. "Yes! What did Adrien and I accidentally do? Who did we call?"

Tikki floated down. "I don't think the Flower Man was malicious," she glanced at Marinette's new flower collection, "No, I believe he is a friend. And he said, "we all heard the call". Right now, I think you've gained some allies. I'd watch out, but I wouldn't start getting paranoid."

The superheroine nodded, slumping back down in the chair. "Alright," she breathed, "I can do that."

* * *

Chat Noir leaned over the ridge of the glass building. One of the few skyscrapers in Paris, it loomed over the historic buildings and over the skyline, but did provide a fantastic view of the city. It was cold though. Not that it bothered him in the suit. But still. Chilly. It was odd to feel the cold and not be affected by it.

Ladybug is behind him, leaning against an air vent, one foot up against it. Her suit, blacker and redder then just dots now, shimmers almost like scales. Paris is the city of lights, still, and she glows like fire. Her hair is braided instead of in pigtails and hangs just slightly past her shoulder blades. He knows she's thinking about taking it and doing something else. Long hair isn't practical to fight in.

Chat reaches up and touches his longer hair, blonde again even though it looks and feels so weird, and wonders if maybe he should crop it short even in this form too.

He lets his hand fall, though, and turns away from orange and blue toward black and red. She turns to glance at him and half smirks before moving her narrowed eyes over the city they gave up everything for.

Not quite everything, though. No. He still has her.

"Hey," he said

She turned back to him, her smirk turning into a smile. "Hey."

He cleared his throat. "You might hate me," he said.

"Impossible," she says with the shake of her head, "But go on."

"What if we had another safe place?"

Her foot drops and her eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"Some place we can go to, out of France, away from here. If things get bad or we need… we need a second place," Chat breathes out, desperate to get it off his chest. "Second passports at least. A second… not headquarters, but hideaway. Out of the way and away from the city."

She blinks and looks down. "Where?"

"I don't know," he said, "I didn't think I'd get this far." He shuffles his head and sinks down against the half way, below the sight of the city. She follows against the air vent and so they're both sitting on the roof of the building, knees up and tucked under chins. "Belgium or Germany. Maybe the UK."

Ladybug blinks. "It should be far. But… how will we get there?"

He nods. "Working on that. Train, maybe. Or… or magic."

She nods. "Yes. Magic." She sounds thoughtful as she murmurs the word, eyes pausing over the Arch in the distance. She pauses and bites her lip. And then, "I have to tell you something."

* * *

It's not surprising Marinette is good with plants. What was, unexpected, though, was the morning some few weeks later that they both woke up to find the flowers from the Flower Man had sprung up and grown almost completely overnight. Marinette swore she hadn't done anything to them, just what she normally did for all her plants.

She watered and pruned them and sometimes spoke in very low whispers to them but otherwise did not, or swore she did not, do anything different at all.

Adrien had noticed them first, moving to open the blinds, when he glanced down at their new collection of flowers to find the ones that hadn't bloomed at all had sprung up and blossomed. Touching a red petaled flower, he excitedly sprung across the couch.

Marinette, who was making the coffee, yelped as two strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her away from the counter.

"Look!" he said excitedly, "Look at your flowers!"

From his arms, she peered across the room. Full and bursting in the middle of later summer. Marinette felt a grin spread across her face. "My flowers!"

"They bloomed!" Adrien exclaimed, laughing as Marinette bounced up and down.

And all she had done was watered them lightly and spoken to them softly.

* * *

The Akuma was a bare boned and quick one. Slender and slim, able to flatten itself against any surface and even away from attacks, molding its hand into a dagger, it was a hard one. It's eyes glowed gold.

Ladybug's hand-to-hand had improved in the several months since they'd been away. And it showed. The Akuma's dagger couldn't touch her. And instead of the yo-yo it expected, Ladybug's fist slammed into the Akuma's face faster than it could say, "Anything for you Hawkmoth."

It skidded across the cobblestone with a snarl, wiping gold dripping saliva from its sharp teeth. Chat landed behind it, his staff twirling in his hand as he slammed it into the stone. The ground cracked and splintered. The Akuma whirled.

"What are you upset about?" Ladybug asked, "Not enough Knives in the kitchen?" It was halfhearted, but an attempt.

A purple butterfly briefly flickered on its face before it snarled and launched itself at her. Ladybug dropped and rolled, dragging her hand across the ground to slow her speed before she had to turn and move out of the way again. It was quicker than either had anticipated. So, while she could keep up hand-to-hand for short amount of time, the Akuma's lightning fast hands caught up with her. A slice across her cheek attested to that.

It sped up and jumped, a clawed foot connecting with her jaw just as she made to move away. Ladybug skidded across the stone, clawing at the ground for some sort of grip, and came to stop just under one of the lamps.

If only she had stronger magic.

Chat had slammed his staff into the Akuma's face, knowing it back as it wailed with a terrifying scream.

Ladybug glanced at her yo-yo, still tied around her waist. "Lucky Charm can't be all I've got," she muttered, and unlatched the weapon from around her body. Picking herself off the floor, and wiping her chin from the blood and dirt, she gripped the two sides of the yo-yo in her hand.

"There's got to be more," she hissed.

Closing her eyes and willing there to be more, she pressed on the yo-yo with all her super-strength. There had to be more. More magic, more abilities. More of Paris. For Chat. For the Akuma's Hawkmoth took advantage of.

More to get rid of Hawkmoth.

She ripped her arms apart.

Magic burst from her, gold and red like the magic of the repair. The yo-yo split, a long center forming like Chat's staff. One round end disappeared and the other, on top, became ovular and glowed white. She stared at the staff for only a second before she looked up and threw herself at the Akuma.

Chat was gaping, but he leapt back, watching as Ladybug's staff glowed with real magic. The air behind it seemed to swell with gold. Ladybugs and vines made of gold and red fluttered out behind it before fading into nothing.

The Akuma's face looked at the menacing hero in terror, taking one, two, three steps back before making to turn. Chat let his staff expand, shoving it to its back. Ladybug pointed the glowing white head of her staff toward the Akuma. She opened her mouth the speak but the Akumas leg snapped out and caused Ladybug to stumble back.

Purple glowed on the Akuma's face, but it snarled something nasty out before turning away and hightailing it out of there. Chat and Ladybug met eyes.

He looked at her staff. "That's new?"

She looked at it as if surprised and then blushed. "Yes." She paused. "Magic?"

He laughed. "You're asking me?"

She giggled only briefly before straightening out her shoulders. "I'll go around the right and you follow behind. She was headed toward the river when we intercepted her, so hopefully she'll go back down that way."

Chat saluted. "Meet you there, Bugaboo!"

She grinned.

* * *

The Akuma was quick, he'd give it that much.

The streets were abandoned. The alarm for Akuma had turned off, but the second one allowing people to return to the streets for casual evening strolls had yet to turn on. He was still surprised that tourists still came to the city, but, well, it was Paris. They couldn't stop, apparently.

Chat rounds a corner and… there's a woman.

She's standing in the center of the road, a grey cloak covering her shoulders and dress. Her hair is long and wavy, but frizzy, as if it had been braided and then brushed, and it hangs almost to her waist. It's dark brown and shiny. She's partially illuminated by the street lamps, but her can see her eyes are red as if she'd been crying.

He's on his guard. "Are… you an Akuma?"

She says nothing.

He takes a step or two closer, staff at the ready. She shifts slightly and lifts her right arm from beneath her cloak. Her hand gripped a white suit jacket. Like the one his mother had.

Behind him there's a scream.

He whirled, kneeling into a fighting stance. The scream dies and then echoes, and then it's coming from his right. An ally. He turned there. From the right and then now the left. Then behind him again. Then in front. He looks at the woman.

Not once has her mouth moved, but he knows it was her screaming.

The jacket falls to the street. It's bloodied, but as if it had been for a long time. The red has stained it a dark rusty color.

He grips his hands over his ears, paining them to keep the terrible screaming out.

He looks from the woman to the jacket. Then back.

Then back at the jacket.

It's his mother's jacket.

He stands up and takes several steps toward her. But she shifts and shuffles and she's the same distance away now. The jacket closer to her than to him. He grits his teeth and pushes forward. He knows he's supposed to follow the Akuma for Ladybug, but the woman has his mothers jacket and _how did she get that?_

A scream from behind again but he doesn't look. Right. Right. Left. It echoes around the large boulevard. And it drops and gets lower. Then it's back in front of him. It's louder and louder and now it's piercing and it's shrill. He keeps walking, closer and closer, and it's gets higher pitched and quicker andhigher andbiggerandlouder andhisthroatisn'tworking and it'slouderandshrillerandquickerandquickerandquickerandquicker.

 _We're very much the same,_ the scream says.

* * *

Ladybug's staff is all magic. It glows gold and illuminates and it's all magic and all wonderful.

But she's missing Chat.

So, she turns away then and runs back toward where he was supposed to meet her and then back even further because he's not there either and she's getting worried. The Akuma had ben diligent in its flight toward the Seine. Ten minutes away good time.

Chat was 14 minutes late.

She nervous and worried. Not even angry, because the Akuma is distracted for the time being and Ladybug must find her partner.

She finds him kneeling over… nothing. He's holding his hands in front of him like he's gripping something, and his green eyes are slitted like a cat in daylight. Except it's dark out now, barely any light even from the street lamps, and no one sits on the street except them.

"Chat," she whispers, leaning over him. She lays her staff on the ground and it illuminates his face from below. His green eyes almost glow.

"Ladybug?" he says, only after a moment. She kneels in front of him and touches both his shoulders. Slowly, he moves to look up at her, pupils returning to normal.

"Are you alright?"

Slowly he shakes his head. "Can I go home?"

She pauses for only a split second before nodding. "Do you need my help?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'll be okay."

She nods. "Right. I'll take care of the Akuma. Stay safe." And then she kisses his brow and leaps away.

* * *

Marinette stood on a hill. It must be, well, it looks like it's morning. There are purple and blue wildflowers around her, and they seem to sing as gold light from just over the horizon, where the sun slowly rises. She's on a hill that's also a cliff; below her, just some few feet away, the earth drops.

Waves crashing against the cliff-face seem to snap in from nothingness, and a cool breeze blows through her hair.

She's not in France, she knows; or at least, she's nowhere she's been. As the breeze blows, she hears the sound the flowers make. Little whispers, just here and there, but certainly existing and real. It confirms those suspicions, then, she thinks suddenly, about her flowers in their dark apartment whispering as she walks by.

Tikki, she notes, is nowhere to be found. She walks away from the cliff and inland but sees neither village or farm to find people. In fact, the Earth looks unburdened by humanity. For as far as she can see, and her visibility is quite good even despite the early sun, she finds flowers, the ocean and off in the distance what appeared to be a wood.

No Tikki and no people. Strange, but not unusual. Not if this is a dream. She suspected this was one because, well, she'd no other conclusion to come to. Middle of nowhere she'd never been? Must be a dream.

She turned around and headed back up toward the height of cliff, to where she'd had the best visibility, and found, as she reached the crest of the hill, she found a man on a horse.

He worse rags; they were rags that must've at one point looked nice and fine, and very old. On his brow, he wore a single silver band and his hair was long and streaked with grey. His horse had once, too, been dressed in finery. The cloth beneath an old leather saddle was a faded blue that looked rich beneath where the sun hadn't reached it. They stood facing the sea, the mans head tilted in her direction as she moved toward the grass toward them.

The horse shifted too, so they stood parallel to the sea and to Marinette.

"Do you know where I am?" she asked, coming up on them.

The man faltered a little and turned his had to look back to the sea. When he turned back, he spoke to her in a strange language.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't understand. Is this a dream?"

The man paused again and huffed.

Marinette frowned and placed her hands on her hips, "If you get off your horse, we might be able to figure this out."

The man shook his head gruffly, clearly understanding her French. He huffed again and then let go of the reigns, running his hands through grey streaked hair. His face was weary and tanned, someone who'd spent a lot of time in the sun, and old, old eyes.

"Eh, lost," he said, in very accented French,

"You're lost?" she asked, "maybe I can help?"

He shook his head.

"No? Okay," she looked around, "do you know where we are?"

He paused and then nodded. He pointed all around them and pointed to himself.

She raised her eyebrows. A strong breeze blew past them. "Home? Alright." She looked around. "You look like you've been wandering here for a long time."

He shrugged and then pointed to her and then his ear.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean?"

He pointed at her again and then pulled on his ear and then mimicked shouting, cupping his hands over his mouth. She closed her eyes and thought hard.

"The call," she whispered under her breath and then looked up at him, squinting her eyes, "Did you hear our call?"

He nodded earnestly and then frowned. He clasped his hands to her and then mimicked shouting again, spreading his arms out around him.

"I know it was heard. I met someone too, his name–."

He waved his hands aggressively to make her stop. Suddenly thinking of Tikki's warning, she cut herself off abruptly. "–er, a… a man. Or, he was something magical. He had a flower shop, he said he heard my call too. That was an accident you know."

He shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He spoke something in the foreign tongue, something that sounded old and strange to her ears, and ran his hands through his hair again.

"I didn't, I mean… we didn't mean to call out to anyone," she admitted, "I'm sorry if we, erm, disturbed you or anything."

He shook his head and gave her a small, sad half smile. She smiled tentatively back, rubbing her arm nervously. He looked for a moment slightly annoyed suddenly, as if the fact that they could only smile and nod at each other. He did understand her, somehow, although it did appear that he struggled to do so.

She looked around the cliff and still saw nothing that could lead to a village or town. No boats spotted the ocean. All there was, was this man and his horse he either could not or did not want to dismount. She tapped her finger on her mouth, thinking hard.

There had to be a way to at least find out where she was. He understood her, but there was no way for them to communicate. At least not by means she was familiar with.

"Do you have a name?" she asked, wary that she wouldn't remember it by the time she woke up again.

He shrugged at her, either at a loss this time to what she was saying or perhaps because he might not know. He did look as if he'd been wandering for a very long time. The finery of the cloth on his back had worn down to thin thread, faded in color, and had clearly never been washed. He did not stray from his horse, which looked dead and bone weary and tired as well. Marinette wanted to pet the poor beast, but the man kept a satisfying distance between them, watching her intently with sagging dark almost black eyes.

He clearly did not want her close. But he had summoned her, for lack of a better word, to this place. This place that still did not have a name.

Another breeze washed over them.

"Alright," she muttered, crossing her arms. "You heard my call, right? So, what is it you want? Or, at least, what is it that you heard exactly?"

She stared at him directly, narrowing her eyes, _willing_ herself to understand what it was he was going to stay. She thought of the flowers she whispered and watered and tried to force the same intent on her glare. Tikki had said offhandedly that intent mattered in magic; you had to mean what you were doing.

So, Marinette really meant to understand what the man was saying to her.

At first, his few soft-spoken words were as unintelligible as they were before, but Marinette closed her eyes and listened and tried to understand as best she could. She had magic; she'd seen it with her own eyes with the flowers, with the staff.

"–be careful," the man said, "Your call was heard by many. Some might be friends, like your Flower man, but others might not be in the slightest. Do not trust everyone you meet, they will not have your best interests at heart."

Marinette grinned and then his words hit her. "And you do?"

The man shifted in the horse's saddle. "I have come to warn you, have I not?" Then he paused and eyed her with suspicion. "You can understand me now? That's strong magic."

She shrugged. "I know what I wanted to I did it. Tell me, where am I?"

He looked around wearily. The open hills below them closed into heavy woods. The landscape in either direction, roughly due east and then north, was cut heavily by steep hills and flowers. To the south and west was the cliff face and the ocean. Another salty breeze hit her, and she looked out over the horizon.

A world devoid of people stood before her and behind her. She turned to him again.

"This place has had… many names, but you'll know it by the name Cornwall," he replied, and squinted out toward sea. "I heard your call all the way out here. Many did. I've not the slightest inclination toward magic, although I know it when I see it now, and I know it when I feel it." He shook his head then and turned toward the wood. The horse shifted in that direction too.

"Cornwall?" she asked, slightly amazed, and then surprised their brief stint into geography had allowed her to remember just where this was. "You mean England?"

He waved his hand dismissively, "I care not for the English and their names, you know it as Cornwall and that is what I will call it."

She looked around again. She'd never been to this part of England. In fact, she'd never been to England at all. Her parents Bakery was a full-time thing, and any trips or vacations they took were within driving distance of Paris. If they were lucky, they could get away from a weekend. More times than not, if there was a break, Marinette was left behind to make sure anything that needed to be delivered or picked up would be.

She wondered in the back of her mind what her parents were doing about that now and if they'd hired someone to do that position. She hoped so.

"Did you call me here?" she asked.

Again, he waved his to dismiss her question. It seemed now that they could understand each other, he was less pressed about trying to get the information to her. "Your call was heard long and far by man. You did have to go and choose a very large circle," he paused and cocked his head slightly, thinking, "Presumably. If you are in Paris and I am here, it must've been a large one.

"No, you cannot trust every hand who comes to you. Be wary of travelers and of those who seek to gain something from you. Do not trust every creature who inclines his head to you, whispering words of friendship and promising good wishes. The creature your partner met, it is not a Banshee, no matter what your goddess says," the man whispered, his voice low now.

"A banshee? Like the screaming thing?" she asked, confusion evident. Part of having a mother that wasn't from the country she was living in meant not necessarily growing up with the same stories as everyone else.

He nodded. "Omens of death, but only to certain families. Unless your friend comes from Éire, I don't think you have anything to worry about. No, that was something else pretending to be a Banshee." He shook his head then. "Regardless, do not lend out your trust so easily. Be wary of those you do not know, and, please, do not trust easily."

"The creature then, what is it? How do you know it's not what you say it is?"

He frowned. "There is more than one type of Good Folk. My warning to you is not to trust easily, that is all."

She frowned. "That's it? Just don't trust everyone I meet. I figured that would be obvious." And it was becoming so; Marinette was wary of the faces she saw on the street. Hesitant of eyes that lingered on her face too long, or people who chatted a bit too cheerily.

"In the world of Man, yes," he admitted, "but in the world of the Good Folk? Never. Do not reveal your true name, no matter how friendly someone may be. Someone has awoken those that slept for very long from the world of Man."

"Was it us?"

The man looked around wearily. "Hardly. Powerful though your call was, it was clear you mean to do good. Go a research and get stronger," he said, "Your magic is powerful and potent. Do not forget your two traditions and be careful where you place your trust."

She blinked.

He and his horse were gone. Left on the cliff-face herself, Marinette turned around to look for him. Gone as quick as he'd come. No name, although probably for good reason, and only his word of warning lingering in the air. She clenched a tight fist. They knew this went beyond Hawkmoth, beyond the Akuma. But the extent?

She looked back around landscape, to the far-off wood and then to the sea, and then back to the fields and fields of flowers. It was to an extent she did not know.

* * *

Gabriel Agreste was not a patient man. Despite his best attempts to be so, he in fact hated waiting. Waiting was an unending game of another's choices; choices he did not have a say over, a place he could not exert control.

Magic proved to be something that he could not exert control over. It was just out of reach. His Kwami, a small thing that floated behind him silently, was made of it. A small god with the power to grant large magic to others. But the magic he bestowed to Gabriel was miniscule in return. He'd unlocked so much, but there was always _more._

He closed the grimoire and moved to place it back on the bookshelf. Below the house, where his dear wife was kept asleep and locked away, Gabriel has sequestered a small library of anything and everything he could find on magic. It proved mostly useless though, as practical understanding of how something worked did not give one a means to use it.

His goal was, ultimately, in the end, to regain his wife. That had proved more difficult than he had thought possible. The magic though.

It was Emilie's life's goal.

In the end, though, what happened in the middle didn't matter so long as he succeeded in his main goal. That is what he told himself anyway. It was hard to be patient when everything else was gone.

His wife, who he'd been fighting for. His son, who he had loved dearly. Adrien's disappearance had at first struck mild annoyance. A beg for attention, he'd waved off when Natalie reported that he'd not been seen, he'd done something similar to his parents. Gave them a scare for a night or two before returning to open arms that were not without a bit of repercussion.

And then a day passed. Annoyance turned to anger. Then to panic. And then Gabriel had stopped, briefly, and thought of the bank account. The money that was transferred over. The computers had been shut down, but Gabriel had booted them up and… found nothing but a locked screen. No attempt by him had given way to a password before the computer threatened to shut itself down.

No. Not a nightly thing to get Gabriel to pay attention. A deliberate choice.

A deliberate choice to leave his father. Presumably for good. Still, Gabriel had thought, then he'd add it to the list. Get Emilie back. Get Adrien back. Even if he had to drag his son in himself, he'd do it. It was just taking time.

The police had been no help. "Missing" they said, "Or Abducted!"

Gabriel spat at their lies. The girl was missing too, sometime after Adrien. They'd probably run off together.

So, it'd either been young love or Adrien made that choice. Gabriel thought hard over it many nights. Still, he said nothing to the police. What did it matter? He'd get his son back. He didn't care for the girl one way or another.

"This isn't some game, Mr. Agreste," said a voice behind him.

He stopped and turned slowly. The creature appeared before him. He didn't know quite _what_ it was. Only that it was helping him. Or, rather, he was helping it.

Disturbed slightly by her speaking of his thoughts, he nodded thoughtfully in her direction. "I'm aware," he said.

She walked forward. At barely five foot four, he had to look down at her. She was often barefoot and padded quietly along the bare metal of the walkways. She nodded in the direction of Emilie's sleep.

"Are ye? You're playing games with children," she snapped, flicking ink black hair over her shoulder. "Children that are getting better at using magic. Magic that they would not have been exposed to had ye not played games with them."

"I cannot help their progress–."

"Progress is easily halted with death," she said calmly, cocking her head to the side.

"We need their Miraculous."

She huffed then and rolled her eyes, padding down the walkway in front of him. He followed closely behind, almost struggling to keep up. Behind him, his Kwami followed.

She stopped when they crossed the threshold into the Atrium. Throwing up her hands, she snapped, "And?! Take them off dead bodies for all I care! It's not like you're killing Creation and Destruction itself–," she paused to think, "Not literally anyway. They always come back. The Miraculous on the other hand."

She turned to face him. "I come in and check on you every few months. Don't ye want your wife back?"

"Of course," he hissed. "Of course, I want Emilie back!"

"Then kill them!"

"I've already been using the spell you gave me to force the Akuma's," he said, "Now you want me to–."

"To murder!" she exclaimed, "Yes! I thought that was a given! You have the right Miraculous for it. Your whatever-she-is had the right now and then had to go an die!" She kicked the metal, causing it to ring through the Atrium. "Humans are so annoying!"

"If you're so powerful," Gabriel said, "Why do you need me? Hm?"

She reached up and grabbed him by the tie, pulling his face so that they were at eye-level. Hawk-like eyes yellowed and the scleral turned a sickly color. "You've no problem with the murder of the innocents your Akuma slaughter on Paris's doorstep," she whispered at him, "You've no issue forgoing your own son to get your wife back. Magic is coming back, you fool, and this time I'll not be left to woods with a bow and arrow.

"No, you'll help me. Magic is coming back, you know your wife knew this truth. She tried to bring it back–."

"It nearly killed her!" he yelled, moving to pull away. She kept him in an iron grip, and he was stuck hunched over.

Her yellow eyes brightened. "Carry on her work. She nearly died for this cause. Don't let it be in vain. If you're lucky, it can be her savior too." She shoved him away and he stumbled back.

"Your magic is pitiful," she snapped, "But as I've said before, I don't need your magic. I need ruthlessness. I already know you have that."

She leaned forward. "Make the right choice, Gabriel Agreste. Don't let your wife's only goal in life to be unfulfilled."

He stumbled away and then straightened, adjusting his suit and then tie. He turned back and scowled at her. He opened his mouth to speak.

She shook her head. "I know your loyalties lie with Emilie, Mr. Agreste. But don't forget, her were with mine." She smiled ruefully at him.

He straightened his jacket one last time and strode away.

When he was out of sight and earshot, Arduinna turned toward Emilie's sleep. "Don't mess with blood magic, Mr. Agreste," she whispered to herself, "You don't know who'll turn up."

* * *

 ** _To be continued…_**

* * *

 **This was more... a bit filler in terms of "hey there we're tryna build some more" because you have to rememeber I started this was a oneshot and. It's clearly not anyway. Woot. Anyway, here's to the next chapter? Hope you like it. R &R below if you'd like!**


	5. The Library

"I think," Marinette said, "We should make bread."

Adrien looked up from his spot on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, reading a newspaper with their masked faces on the cover. "Huh?"

"Bread," she exclaimed, "Have you ever made some?"

He lowered the newspaper slowly. "I haven't," he said, then paused to think, "I mean, I've watched you make some. But I don't think I have."

She grinned and clapped her hands together. "Perfect, grab the speaker! We're going to make a pesto bread!"

][][][

Adrien's dream was a strange one. He was slowly whittling a piece of wood with a rather blunt knife in the poor raining, half covered around his shoulders with a dirty wool blanket. Across from him, in what appeared to be a high ditch, was another boy. Black hair, eyes half-closed, cowering in the dirt with a blanket and a coat. It was almost too dark to see; it was nighttime, then.

"This is bullshit," said the boy in front of him, shifting to adjust the blanket.

"Then leave," said Adrien, but it was neither his voice or his choice to say anything. He wanted to move, to leave, but this body was clearly not his own.

"Ha!" the boy said, "Leave the army. Okay. And get caught by some Germans instead."

"I'd take the Germans over Lieutenant Colonel Bernard," not-Adrien said, his mouth opening without permission again. He paused in his whittling to look at his work. His eyes had adjusted now, and he could see the grain of the wood.

The other boy grunted non-committedly, clearly unsure if he agreed with not-Adrien's sentiment. This was a strange dream. It wasn't often one didn't get a choice at all in what was said or done. And Adrien didn't know how to whittle.

"How are you not cold?"

"I don't feel it," Adrien replied, except he did. That was a total lie. This dream was strange; he could feel the cold rain. The cold ground and earth. He shivered silently. The other boy scoffed.

"Liar," he said, "If we sat together, we could stay warm."

Adrien felt his body shrug. "If you stopped talking, maybe you wouldn't waste the energy you need to keep warm."

" _Blaireau_ ," the other boy said, although it sounded much like his non-committal grunt from earlier.

Adrien rolled his eyes and toss his whittling project to the side. "Fine, fine." He leaned forward, the other boy shifting slightly to face him, and said in a low voice.

"Let's look around," he said.

"It's raining," the other boy replied immediately.

"No sense of adventure."

"You lose a sense of adventure when you join the army. Or when there are mines in the woods," the other boy said.

"Nonsense," Adrien said, "there are no mines in these woods. And anyway, we're far away from any Germans. They're east, remember?"

"We are also east, if you recall. And what should happen if anyone were to come here and find we were gone? They'll think us deserters!" he looked hurriedly over his shoulder, as if even mentioning the word would cause his commanding officer to appear. "It was not a joke that I am more scared of Lieutenant Colonel Bernard over the Germans. He'll skin us alive and send us to some island to live the rest of our lives! Unless they hang us!"

"Fine, then, stay here and wallow and freeze. I only want to look around. And if I find any Germans, I'll kill them," he held up the small whittling knife as if that was the ideal weapon for close combat fighting.

The other boy scoffed, "You're a fool. Some _boy_ from a small village in the south thinks he can take on the people that took Paris!"

Adrien, or the body Adrien was in, got defensive. "Oh, shut it, idiot. I'm not a fool, I know to be careful. And anyway, anything is better than freezing."

He stood straight up in the ditch, the rim of the dirt only coming to just below his shoulders. Grabbing a root from a nearby tree, he began to pull himself out. The rain made it near impossible and his heavy boots slid against the loose mud.

"Even hanging!?" the young boy hissed.

Adrien turned and saluted the boy before scurrying off into the woods.

The heavy rain wasn't nearly as bad the further he got into the wood. It grew denser above and the large bushes and untamed woods became mossy and dirt. Adrien grew frustrated with this dream. What was the point?

"Oy vey," the boy whose body Adrien was seeing from said, clutching the blanket over his shoulders tighter. He'd not been walking more than twenty minutes. But it was better than the dirty and muddy ditch in the ground where, presumably, Adrien and the other boy had been instructed to stay.

He didn't even know this boys name.

But it was clearly… clearly the past. Maybe this was less a dream and more a vision.

"Mines," he muttered to himself, "Nonsense. As if the German would waste mines on a wood."

And Adrien, who know exactly that the Germans had wasted mines on a wood, felt himself shiver. Except, the body didn't shiver. But Adrien felt himself do so. The other body kept walking, tromping up and over mossy logs and the few underbrush there was. He was trapped in this other body, watching helplessly as he traversed further and further into the wood.

Maybe this was a past holder?

And then he heard singing.

The boy stopped suddenly, whirling around to face the direction of the singing. It was… not reassuring. Haunting. But not sad. The boy muttered something too low to hear and moved forward, practically kneeling on the ground, hiding behind large tree trunks.

A small creek bubbled below them by several feet. Across the bank was a large willow tree. It was surrounded by heavy brush and, just before it in the dirt, was a ring of red toadstools. A woman sat in the middle, singing to herself, snapping bits of twigs apart.

Adrien feels the boy shiver in excitement. The woman, whose face is obscured by long golden hair, has clearly not yet noticed them. But Adrien can… he can feel the magic. Is this what it is? No wonder Marinette could use it so well; it felt warm and wonderful.

"Hello," the boy calls out, cupping his hands over his mouth.

The woman's head snaps in his direction. She hurriedly stands up, fists clenched at her side. The boy emerges from behind the tree and takes several steps back before running and leaping over the creek. The woman jumps as he lands.

"Hello," he repeats.

She stares at him and then looks around the wood. She turns back to him and says, cautiously. "Hello."

"My name is Jean," he says, grinning. "And who might you be? I'm a soldier you see, I could use a woman's company."

She scrunches her nose up at him and Adrien finds she looks familiar. She shakes her head. "I cannot go with you, even if I wanted to. I cannot leave this place."

"Don't you have a name then?" he asks, "So that I may have your name as well as your face to keep me company once I leave?"

"You think yourself sweet," she says with a scowl, "But your words do not flatter me."

"Surely, they give you some happiness, knowing you've given a man at least something."

Her scowl deepens, if possible, and she shakes her head. "I've given you nothing but knowledge of my existence."

"True," he agrees, "It isn't enough. Surely you could give me something more?"

"Have you no dignity?"

"I have plenty," he says with a half-bow, "That and plenty to give. Come with me, I can treat you well. Your beauty has astounded me, and your face is like the moon appearing on a cloudy night."

"I am neither only my beauty or a moon," the woman says, "Regardless, I cannot leave this place. Must I repeat that for your benefit or is your lack of dignity accompanied by a lack of hearing?"

The boy stirs a little bit, either not used to being spurred or simply not used to being talked to directly to. It didn't matter; he deserved it. But Adrien was suddenly worried for this woman's safety. He tried to flex the body's fingers, but they remained steadfastly still.

"Alright," the boy finally says, "I'll be back then. I'll bring you some flowers and make you reconsider." He takes several steps back.

"Don't leave!"

And then Adrien wakes up.

][][][

He'd fallen asleep on the couch. It was still dark out, still early enough in the morning he could justify going back to sleep again. Plagg is some few feet away, resting on a pillow on top of the coffee table. He'd not awoke at Adrien's caught breath.

Slowly he sat, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his hair. Clearly, any notions he had about it having been a dream were to be thrown out the window. It'd clearly been a vision… or… something real that _had_ happened. The uniforms, the speech, and talk about Germans in the woods and mines. But that soldier, Jean, had clearly run into some type of, what?

A fairy? Spirit? Forest-thing?

Maybe he needed to look up more magical terms. They desperately needed to talk to Fu. Adrien knew they had to be wary in their contact with him. But they were older now, and Tikki had promised a chat. Adrien would pay for any burner phones himself, for heaven sake. All this running round, knowing magic was real, even watching Ladybug use it, didn't mean they were experts.

They were practically running in blind. Running in blind meant Hawkmoth could kill them; even if they had the healthy cushion of Ladybug bringing them back to life, they still needed to know what was going on. It was not only a race to stop Hawkmoth and wherever his goals may lie (the spoken line came back to him then, it might have been), but to get that knowledge first.

Adrien wasn't an idiot. He knew that whatever Hawkmoth was doing, he was also looking out for stronger magic.

But how to unlock it? The circle had… somewhat worked. Marinette was being bombarded by magical beings. Not bombarded. But approached at least. Adrien was left forgotten in the corner as if he hadn't also attempted to reach out, hadn't also been on the Arch. He'd felt it too.

And they had talked to Fu. He'd been somewhat cryptic as always, but Marinette could hit-hard when she wanted. And when she got that steel-hard look on her face? Adrien paused to think a moment. He'd do anything she asked too. He'd do that anyway, but that was beside the point. Fu had answered the questions, and he had said that Adrien and Marinette were equal in everything that they did.

But just telling them to do it didn't exactly solve their problems.

And Adrien didn't know what kind of magic he had or could deal with. Marinette could clearly make things. She'd grown those flowers practically overnight. She'd created something entirely new from her yo-yo.

Being told you had limitless power didn't allow one for much thought on the beginning of limitless. And the last thing Adrien wanted to do was bring down the whole building because he was a catalyst of destruction, or something.

He leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. They'd all talk in the morning.

][][][

" _I have milk,_ " Marinette said in English, holding up the carton. Tikki and Adrien beamed at her.

"Very good, Marinette!" Tikki exclaimed.

" _Thank you,_ " she replied, smiling.

Adrien sat across from her on the kitchen counter, leaning onto it with a soft smile on his face. He looked at her like that often. It reminded her of the small and soft smiles Chat Noir had given her, long before they ever found out they were each other's partners. It made her happy and safe.

" _Your English is getting good, but we need to work on your sentence structure,_ " he said, and then took a sip from his coffee.

Marinette paused to think about what he said, repeating the words under her breath. Then she nodded. "You're right. Maybe we can go to the library and grab some books for me to study?"

Adrien nodded thoughtfully. "That would be good, give you something solid to look at. I wanted to talk to you guys, all of you," he turned back to Plagg, who was watching the news again, "about something. I had a dream last night."

Plagg floats over to sit next to Tikki, the news forgotten, and his interest is piqued. Tikki bites down on a small American-style pancake.

Marinette turned, curious, "Oh?"

He nodded. "It was… strange. I don't think it was so much a dream as… a vision. Does the miraculous give you visions?" he'd turned to the two Kwami, who were looking at him with rapt attention. Tikki swallowed another bite of pancake.

"Yes and no. It depends on what it is. What did you see?"

Adrien took a sip of coffee. It was still too hot. He often had to wait until it was lukewarm before he could begin to drink, whereas Marinette sat there once and downed an almost boiling cup of tea right in front of him to show off.

"It was strange. I was… looking through someone else's eyes. It was like I was in their body. I couldn't move on my own or say anything. I could only watch through their eyes and hear them speak. I was them, but I just couldn't do anything," he explained, hands running through his hair. "It was scary at first; terrifying, even. But it was… I'm just not sure what it means."

"What happened, exactly?" Tikki asked, voice stern. Plagg beside her turned to face his charge, small little eyes worried.

"I was a soldier, a boy maybe only a year or two older than me, named Jean," Adrien said, leaning over his coffee. "I was… in a ditch, or hole, somewhere. I still don't know where. But I do know the boy was worried about mines. Whether that had anything to do with where we really were or he was just scared, I don't know. It was… raining. And Jean said he wanted to look around the woods. So he did."

"What did you see?" Plagg asked, just as Tikki opened her mouth.

"This doesn't seem all the strange, content-wise," Marinette said, "but not being able to control the dream? Or vision? When was it?"

"They must've been soldiers," Adrien explained, "The one boy was worried about Germans."

Marinette blinked. "Alright."

Adrien looked back at the Kwami, "He went off into the woods. He walked for… I don't know? Twenty or thirty minutes. I'll be honest, if I wasn't terrified, I'd have been bored. It was raining and dark. And cold. And I could feel it. It sucked." He paused to think a moment.

"He ran into… a woman, or something that looked like a woman. She was singing and sitting in a circle or toadstools. They talked and he was," Adrien rolled his eyes, "less than nice. But then he left, saying he'd come back. And then I woke up."

"A fairy," Tikki said, "or a Dryad. Haven't seen one of those in a long time."

"A Dryad?" Adrien asked, "Like in Narnia?"

"I'm sorry, what's a Dryad?" Marinette interrupted, "I don't know these things."

"It's a forest spirit," Tikki said slowly, "But really they are tree spirits. They can take the shape of a human, sometimes male or female or neither or both." She shrugged her small soldiers. "It all depends. But they can't stray far from their trees."

"They said 'I can't leave this place'," Adrien recalled, "So they must've been a Dryad."

"More likely than not, yes," Tikki confirmed, "But they usually do so well with hiding, not getting caught. Nothing short of luck or wanting to be found can help you see one. They are pretty elusive."

"Are there magic spells to recall dreams?"

"I remember it vividly," Adrien said, "The cold did that enough."

"It's not a dream, certainly a vision, one presumably from the past. You're lucky Adrien, not many people can survive those. And to remember them with such clarity? That's impressive. Usually that's only…" she shook her head, "We're getting into specifics without knowing the full story."

Marinette opened her mouth to say something and then closed it, crossing her arms over her body.

Adrien looked to Tikki. "So, what now?"

"It seemed it ended because you woke up, not because it was done. Sleep on the couch again and before you go to bed, think hard about the vision and see if it can pick up where you left off," she said, tapping a paw to her small chin. "That might help!"

Adrien looked around them. "Alright. Yeah. I can do that."

][][][

It was almost a week later before they made it to the library. In between Adrien's attempts at dreaming, Marinette collecting two more police radios, and finding the time between three Akuma attacks to go, they'd barely had a chance to breath.

They stood outside the big grand Greek façade, both wearing sunglasses and hats and nondescript clothing. Tourists and Parisians both swarmed around them.

Magali snapped her hand to Leo's. "This doesn't feel right," she said, looking at him over her sunglasses. "I don't know what it is. But we shouldn't be here."

Leo looked up at the looming building. Large wide steps as open arms in greeting. He paused a moment to look around them. No one paid them any mind, but he was paranoid. Paranoia was annoying, because it meant he was always expecting the worst out of people now. Lingering stares or smiles that lasted a little too long? Leo, Adrien, was out of there.

"What's wrong?" he said, taking her concern seriously.

"I'm not sure," she muttered, eyes searching. "Just that I think… no, I know we aren't going to find our answers here."

He looked around them. A man had stopped to take a picture of his family. Adrien moved them away from the camera and then turned back to his partner.

Magali, Marinette, she answered to both now, shook her head. "Let's leave. I think I know where we can go."

She kept her hand in his as she led them away from the Greek façade, away from the library and the people and faces and cameras. They weaved in and out of the crowds with practiced ease. It was getting to be nearing fall now; soon the tourists crowds would fade away and leave business workers and students.

Marinette's heart panged with want. She had wanted to be one of those students. But she couldn't, not now. Paris needed her. She wasn't sure if she could do it either. What would she do, sitting there all day long sewing dresses, knowing that magic and gods and fairies existed?

Knowing she could do real life magic? Make things grow and will things to happen? She hadn't yet told them, but she knew she should. Keep secrets didn't do anyone good. But it wasn't like Adrien's dream. All that had happened was that she had talked to the man on the horse, who'd warned her to not trust others so easily. And she had, she supposed, done magic. In a dream. Did that make it a dream? Had it been?

She too had felt the salty breeze of the sea over her arms and face. She too had felt the suns warmth. She felt bad for Adrien, stuck in another's body and feeling the cold and rain and darkness around him.

They kept walking. Marinette had not yet run into anyone from school. She'd mentally prepared for the time, wondering what she would do if she saw them. Avoid eye contact, turn as nonchalantly in another direction, don't speak. Easier said than done. Coming from the opposite direction were Alya and Nino, along with Mylene, Rose and Juleka, Alix and Max. They were chatting to themselves, hardly paying attention.

Adrien stilled and gripped her hand harder. "See them?" he whispered into her ear, leaning over. She almost jumped at his voice.

Instead, though, she smoothed her hand over her jeans and smiled up at him, looking up through her sunglasses.

"I say we should head to the bakery, yeah?"

Adrien tilted his head to the side and nodded, letting go of her hand. They both slowed down, leaning into each other and giggling as if they were a happy couple on a date. Marinette covered her mouth with her hand and laughed, keeping it low and not at all like her own boisterous laughter.

Adrien too did his best to look different. His brown hair was usually enough. He shrugged his shoulders up and hunched over, loosing his confident walk.

Their old friends walked right past them.

It had, of course, only been 5 months. They'd left in April. It was nearing the end of September now. They wouldn't be forgotten so easily.

Marinette held her head high once they'd past, dropping her hand and her shoulders. She looked up at Adrien. "Think we were convincing?"

He patted her shoulder. "Who says we were playing pretend?"

She rolled her eyes but grinned, still leading him now in the direction she knew they needed to go. "Aren't kittens known for playing around?"

"Playing around and playing pretend are too different things," he said with a smirk, giving her a wily crooked smile. "I did neither. You make me laugh anyway, I don't have to lie about that."

"You flatterer."

He winked at her. "Only for you!"

][][][

The building they turned up at turned out to be a large medieval castle apparently in the heart of Paris. It was a public library now, opened in the late 1880s, and functioned more or less like any other library. Only that it was a castle. And now like a castle with pretty turrets and large glass windows; no, this was a fortification. Something meant to be defendable. And worth defending.

"Is this it?"

Marinette nodded. "It… feels right at least. Even if we don't get all the answers, we will get something. I think this is where we should be."

Adrien frowned and bound up the steps. Unlike the other library, this was far less crowded. The street wasn't deserted, people walked to and from places with purpose, but it wasn't busy by any means. "I'm not even sure what we're looking for."

"Neither am I," she admitted. "But I know whatever it is, it's here."

He reached his hand out to her. "My lady, if I may!"

She giggled. "You may!"

][][][

The library wasn't dark. The inside had been whitewashed and polished to make it was bright as possible. In front of them was a large wooden desk on an ancient tile floor. Behind it sat an old man, who was reading a small and clearly old book.

He looked up as they approached. "Oh, I see," he muttered to himself. "Hello, how might I help you?"

Marinette smiled at him and opened her mouth and then stopped short. Adrien took over. "We're looking for… some… uh, manuscripts?"

The man lowered his book slightly. "Manuscripts? And what type of manuscripts might those be?"

"Old ones," Adrien said bluntly.

"What my… friend… means to say, is we are looking for manuscripts, on old folk tales or stories. Maybe, legends or stories?" Marinette asked, grinning nervously.

The man slowly placed his bookmark in the book and laid it to the side. He clasped his hands in front of himself and leaned onto his elbows, peering up at them from behind his small little desk. "I see, hm. Yes. Well, you will not find too many… manuscripts, so you say, about folk tales. Those are mostly by word of mouth you see. I do, however, have several manuscripts that are of the Christian tradition. Is that what you are looking for?"

Marinette and Adrien glanced at each other and then back at the man. "No."

The man shrugged and leaned back. "I can… of course, let us go. Follow me. Manuscripts are not quite what you are looking for. Children assume they look for something old and so they ask for a ' _manuscript_ '! Nonsense. I'll bring you to what you need. Perhaps I can give you an ear for poetry. It's my favorite."

He lifted himself easily from his chair and skirted around the desk to a wooden door in the side of the entry. It led to a steep staircase to a second, then third, floor. Then to a locked room on the third floor. Then up another staircase until they were in a small tower.

He gestured around them. Several large, rounded bookshelves sat against the curved walls of the tower. A decently sized lead window let in light and a view of a back garden. And, the most surprising thing, the books were chained to the bookshelf.

"Whoa," Marinette whispered.

"I suppose you'll need a key," the man said, procuring a large metal key from his back pocket. "There are gloves in that corner, although you shan't need them. This key should take care of all the locks." He tossed the key to Adrien, who fumbled before catching it.

"Do lock up when you're done!" the man said, and then left out the door through the staircase.

Marinette and Adrien stared at each other for a moment before Tikki and Plagg emerged from their bags. Tikki stared hard at the door. "Either you've found another friend or you two have just gleefully walked into a trap."

"I say trap!" Plagg exclaimed.

"Look who's optimistic," Marinette grumbled, taking the key from Adrien to examine it.

"I'm just saying, you walked into a library you were magically led too and followed an old man up two locked rooms to a large tower with chained books in it. Caution thrown to the wind! Heroes these days!"

"Plagg," Tikki warned, rolling her eyes. "But… he is right. Caution could have been good here."

But Marinette shook her head. "No, no. It felt right. I knew to come here. And I know that man has helped us."

Adrien frowned back at the door and inclined his head toward it. "Do you think he's like your flower man?"

"Gra–ah, maybe?" Marinette said, wincing, but catching herself before she said his name.

"We're talking sense now," Plagg grumbled.

"Maybe?" she repeated, slower. "I didn't notice at all with him right away. I didn't get anything from him at all. Did either of you?"

Both Tikki and Plagg frowned. Plagg shook his head as Tikki gave them both a half-hearted shrug. "It's not… easy. I was worried for you both, too. And your flower man isn't… well, he is not the most powerful. I could feel him right away, but that could be because he wanted you to know who he was. He did tell you his name, after all." She tapped her little chin. "No, I think if this man wanted you to know who he was he would say. He's helping. At least. Hopefully." She looked around warily. "We'll find out."

She turned to Plagg and tapped him on the head. "Are any of these books cursed?"

Plagg squinted his large green eyes and flew up and along the bookshelves. He made his way around the whole room several times before stopping next to Tikki again. "Looks like an all clear. Definitely magic books though."

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean written by magic-people for other magic-people." He flew up to another bookshelf and tapped a book. "Magical Lore on the Lakes of Ancient Albion." He tapped another a few feet from that one. "The Basics of the History of Druids." And another. "Saxon Garden Magic. And this one– oh, never mind. That's just another language. Don't forget kids, languages aren't inherently magical!"

"Oh, pull that out," Marinette said, tossing Plagg the key.

He held it gingerly and scowled. "I think… you should get reading."

][][][

Adrien awoke but tripping over some tree roots. But it wasn't Adrien this time. It was… Jean. Ah, yes. That was his name. Wherever did he get the notion his name was Adrien in the first place? What a silly name.

It had been several years since Jean had been to this forest. It had taken him far too long to find again, given that he thought they'd been in France in a hole; instead he'd been in Belgium. Ardennes. Whatever. He'd found it again and that's all that mattered. The green-eyed fairy awaited him.

Dressed in a brand-new coat, a bunch of flowers in his hand, tied up with twine, Jean thought he looked rather… ah, what was that word that one American soldier had used? Spiffy. He looked spiffy.

He'd caught himself on a small tree and straightened up, adjusting his new coat his mother had gifted him for returning _alive_ , a fate that had not been blessed on two of his five cousins. A brand-new coat for my safe son, she'd told him, kissing his brow and giving him a hug. He wore it practically everywhere.

Even now, trapezing through the woods to find a fairy he could have very well imagined in his cold and sleep-deprived delirium, he had shrugged it on before leaving. His blonde hair was combed back, his tie neatly secured.

He didn't look like a man who would be walking through the woods. But, well, that didn't matter. The war was over now. And he'd made a promise to that green-eyed fairy that he would return. He would free her from her entrapment under the leaves, and he would bring her from the wood and make her his wife.

She was beautiful. Even though it had been dark, and he'd been wet and tired and lonely, his memory of the fairy was crystal clear. Had she radiated her own light? Jean didn't know. But he wouldn't doubt it.

The trek through the woods was less daunting without the rain and darkness to shroud the path from him. He hadn't exactly followed a path; so, he followed his heart. He'd passed their old ditch, which had grown over with moss and leaves, but still left such a considerable dent in the ground he almost could've fallen in had he not stopped. But that had given him a slight place marker to go with, and from there attempted to find his way back.

"Mines," he muttered to himself again. "What nonsense." But Jean paused in his walking and made a crossing motion over his chest.

Marc, the boy who'd been in the ditch with him, who was too terrified to even be in war in the first place, had been shot dead in the January of '45. Just two weeks after Jeans run through the woods. He'd been from a small village in Brittany, with an English mother and French father. He'd also been the only one who got along with more than a quarter of their American friends. He had wanted to be a teacher, after the war.

Jean shrugged the thoughts off his chest, rolling his shoulders back and shaking his head. No use thinking of dead people right now. They were dead. And they generally intended to stay that way.

Jean struck forward before finding himself facing a small bubbling creek some several feet down. Across from the large cut in the earth with the little clearing of the willow tree and the ring of Toadstools. He'd found it! By god, he'd found it. He licked his lips and rested his hand on a nearby tree, leaning over around it to search for the little green-eyed fairy.

She rested against her nearby tree, plucking up little clovers and daisies from the ground and spinning them in her hand.

He stepped out from behind the tree and jumped across the creek.

She jumped as he landed, eyes growing wide as he grinned at her, holding out his little bouquet of flowers.

"You?!" she exclaimed, "what are you doing here?"

][][][

Marinette held the ancient book open on the desk, fingers barely touching the pages. The old man had said they wouldn't need gloves. But the book looked as if it were just on the cusp of falling into dust in her hands and she knew she read somewhere that your hands had oils in them that could damage the books.

That was the last thing she wanted to do.

Plus, it was so beautiful.

She also couldn't read the thing. It was covered in what Tikki had described as "runes". They looked more like something out of a fantasy novel; but this was a real language, a real thing that had meaning and grammar and, more importantly, context.

She wondered if she could will herself to be able to read it? With magic again, like in her dream.

Tikki sat across from her, in the window over the desk, half asleep. Plagg was awake but had preoccupied himself with Adrien's weekly phone. Marinette looked back down at the book. She didn't even know if she needed to "will" herself to read it. To know what it said. For all it mattered, this entire thing could be a book on medical ills and practices and the last thing she wanted to read about was _leeches_.

And anyway, she'd picked the book off the shelf because the spine had been pretty.

That was all.

She glanced over at Adrien, who'd fallen over onto his share of the desk, head resting in his folded arms, snoring quietly. She patted his shoulder and turned back to the book.

She closed her eyes and leaned over it. _Come on._

][][][

It was May, just after they'd ran away, Marinette had come across a mugging. They didn't exactly handle those before; they hadn't needed too. Come out with Akuma, defeat Akuma, leave. If she saw them, she'd land and deal with it. But more often than not she was able to simply report them to the police as an anonymous source.

But this was… had clearly just began. It was two men and another, who wore a nice suit and tie and was carrying the briefcase they were after close to his chest. He was speaking in hurried French, a dialect from the south if Marinette could hear him right and pulling away from them by taking several steps back.

One of the men, the tallest, in dark black, flipped out a knife. It was tiny, but a knife was a knife was a knife.

"Oh no," she muttered, swinging down from someone's creaky old roof pipe. She landed some few feet from them and instantly they all froze.

The man with the briefcase didn't turn at her appearance, but she heard him mutter under his breath, "Oh dear god another one."

"Hello, boys," she said, straightening. "You didn't have to all come at once! I did tell you different meeting places, right? Don't tell me you found out about me?" she gave a faux-gasp, hands covering her mouth. "That's a shame."

" _Fuck_ ," the shorter mugger said in English, "Ladybug!"

She dropped her yo-yo in her hands and smiled, tilting her head to the side. "Now, won't you leave this poor man alone?"

"But we're not Akuma's!" the taller said, pulling his knife up regardless to shield himself.

"What?" she said, "You think I won't do anything about a mugging?"

Probably the wrong thing to say, because while one clearly wanted to back down, Knife-guy sprinted at her full-speed. There was something to say that was different about fighting Akuma's than there was about fighting real people. For one, she had to pull her punched. Second, she didn't have any training in fighting. Obviously, she could dodge and could take the man over with sheer strength provided to her with the suit.

But fighting? Real-life combat training? Nada. None. Zilch.

She knew as much about combat as she did about what Alya had told her about comic books, so, no, actually, she knew even less than that. Because at least she knew who Nightwing was. Apparently. She didn't even know what a round-house kick was, just that Adrien wanted to learn it.

She dodged a fist and a knife came for her abdomen. She barely dodged that too, forgot to pull her punch, and threw the man about half a meter back with a solid punch to his face. She shook her wrist out, wincing. The knife clattered to the ground, sliding across wet pavement.

She needed to learn how to punch, too.

The shorter mugger paused for only half a second before he turned and sprinted out of the alley. She hesitated for half a second with her yo-yo. Then she clasped it back to her waist. She walked over to the knife and plucked it off the ground, holding it in his hand. Better grab this before they came back for it. She glanced at the man on the ground. Or he woke up.

The businessman.

Right.

She turned toward him. He was still clutching his briefcase, trembling.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded wordlessly.

She looked back down to the entrance of the alley. "Do you want someone to walk you home?"

He looked around the alley, then at his briefcase, then at the entrance, and then back at Ladybug. He nodded again.

She sighed. "Alright, come on. Must be an important briefcase."

Did this make her a vigilante now?

God, she hoped not. She had enough on her plate.

][][][

"Fairy," Jean said, smiling. "I'll admit. I didn't think I would find you again. I sore to myself that I would marry you and would be your groom. You've captured my heart, you see, and I want yours."

The fairy scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "And me? Do I have a say?"

He faltered for only a split second, holding his flowers up. "I love you."

She scowled at him and turned away, walking toward her tree for a moment and then turning back to him, leaning back into it. Her dress was half stitched with twine and half with cloth and sagged over her body, ill-fitting. Her hair was pulled haphazardly back in a long braid.

"Unless you intend to stay here forever, I don't think that can happen. I can't leave here, you see, and that hasn't changed in the slightest. Leave, human, stop wasting your time with what you cannot have," she spoke before he could say anything, looking him up and down in his new green coat.

"But I can have you," he insisted, taking a few steps forward, "I can, and I will. You see, I've lived through too much to be told no when I've made up my mind. I have good employment and good prospects. I can treat you well, Fairy. And how wonderful it would be to bring my mother such a woman of beauty."

He got down on one knee. "I'll marry you, Fairy. And that I promise."

"And I will never marry you," she promised, "Neither here, nor far, nor soon."

He stood up, determined. "I'll see you free of this place."

][][][

Marinette closed her eyes and tried. God, she tried. Was magic easier in dreams where you could already influence what was happening? Had it even been a dream, standing up on that cliff-face with the knight?

Or had it been real.

She leaned back and looked around the library. She didn't even know where to start. Half the books were in other languages, some she didn't even know what language they were, and others were hardly relevant to… whatever it was they were searching for. It was, admittedly, hard to look for books on a subject when you didn't know what the subject was.

"Perhaps I can help?"

She jumped slightly, having not heard the man come up behind her. She could have sworn that old door had creaked when they entered, but it was shut now, and the man was behind her regardless. She turned to look at him.

He was tall and knobby. Grey wispy hair and grey eyes, with glasses perched on a long slightly upturned nose.

"You really are starting from nowhere," he said, taking a seat on one of the small cushioned seats behind them.

Marinette made to stand up, her chair had a back, but the man motioned her down.

"You are looking on… making your magic better, yes?"

She paused. "Well, originally we were here for… English books. But then… um, that sort of devolved."

He laughed a little. "Don't bother with English, it's a pointless language. Learn something fun and useful. _As Gaeilge_ or German or Latin. Greek is fun, I've enjoyed Greek thoroughly." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Finnish is plenty fun as well, and if you want a challenge you should learn Swiss-French." He winked. "It'll be easier for you to fake than being a _Sasanach_. Or Breton! That would be a delight.

"But," he said, "You came for languages and determined that isn't really what you need. But your first choice of study was not here, was it?"

She shook her head. "No, not really, I was… led here."

He nodded. "Yes, yes. Trust your gut. And trust your partner," he nodded to Adrien, "But heed the warning of your knight, don't trust too freely. You will run into challenges the further you delve into this world."

"All we wanted to know was how to get stronger to defeat Hawkmoth!" she exclaimed, and then lowered her voice as Adrien stirred beside her. "That's all!"

"Hawkmoth is not working without help. He too has taken to seeking more about this world. His whole life is seeped in it. But he does have help. I cannot speak on his motivations but know they do not lie in the best interest of others," the man said.

"Do you know who he is?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "Whomever is helping him is keeping him shrouded. My abilities lay elsewhere, regardless. I'm more of a poet, you see. I'm not good at scrying magic. No, I do not know. However, I can help you in your search to find him."

He stood up then and walked to one of the bookshelves. With a wave of his hand, all of the latches and locks clicked and unlocked. He began pulling several books off the shelf.

"These will be good in your search," he held up one and waved it, "Magical Theory and Practical Magic" and then he held up another, "Creating Something from Nothing: Magical Practice and the Theory of Creation Magic." He paused a moment. "Of course, theory is all good and well. AH! Here we go." He placed the former two on the small chair behind him where he'd been sitting. "These two! 'How to Utilize Existing Skills: A Book on Proper Spellcasting' and 'Beginners Battle Magic and the Proper Etiquette of Dueling', those will do you well."

He handed her the stack of books. "There is also Potion Making and Botany magic, which would do well for you. Just a moment." He unlocked a whole other bookshelf and pulled out three more small books.

"And for your friend," he said, "a few books on destruction magic. Of course, the first several will do well for him too. Do not forget that you are equals and opposites. Read and study each other's magic and encourage yourselves to do so. You'll be stronger that way."

She looked at the stack of books in her arms. "Do you have anything on Dryads?"

He tilted his head. "Dryads? Hmm. I have several books on… the Good People and their folk. Yes, just a moment." He went over to the bookshelf again. "Dryads are Greek creatures, although many exist elsewhere. You'll be hard-pressed to find one now, though. They're still around of course, like all of us are. Just harder to find. Ah. Yes, here." He passed her another book. "That'll explain Dryads at the least. They can be nasty. Like any of the Good Folk, I wouldn't trust one with my left pinky, let alone my life."

She glanced up at him. "Right, alright. Thank you, you've been a great help."

He smiled at her. "I've helped perhaps more than I should have. But, well, what can I say?" he winked, "And you were struggling. I do have one last thing." He went and reached for another small book, tiny, but modern looking. "'A Collection of Anglo-Saxon Stories and Entries'," he said, "You might want to give it a read. It'll answer some questions."

She took the book in her hand and looked down at the cover. Plain faded blue with gold text. When she looked back up, the man was gone.

She glanced around the small tower, but there wasn't any place to go or hide. Perhaps that was why she hadn't heard the door open when he entered. He hadn't used it.

"Plagg?" she whispered, careful not to wake Adrien.

He popped out of Adrien's shirt pocket and then shivered. "You are both lucky, that you've managed to run into friendlies."

She glanced over at the door. He was right; she wondered when their luck would run out.

][][][

Adrien lowered the police radio from his hear and glanced at Marinette. Two coffees on their desk, computer screen open with a map of the city in view.

"Think there's a spell for permanently dying hair?"

Marinette glanced up curiously. "Like the brown that much?"

He shrugged and glanced down at the newspaper. "Yeah, I think I do."

She settled back in her chair, throwing her feet up on the desk. "I wonder how that would work. Would it change your DNA or just always make your hair grow back brown?"

Adrien tapped the side of his coffee cup. "I think… I think it makes your hair grow back the color you want."

Marinette nodded slowly. "Hm. True. Do you think the magic, like… do you think it recasts the spell over an over as your hair grows? Or like one big spell and your hair just turns brown? What if it only looks brown to everyone else and you but it's really just yellow, just tricking people?"

Adrien paused. "Hm. Good points."

The police radio cackled to life.

Adrien set his coffee aside. "Ah, well, we'll get there when we get there. I'll escort you to the Akuma then, my lady?"

She laughed and took his hand. "Of course, I wouldn't want it any other way!"

][][][

Jean returned again, old and wiser and with an ax in his hand. The path was easy to find this time, even after all these years. It'd been too long since he'd seen his fairy.

His fairy.

He swung the ax in his hands. He was graying now, wrinkles lay around his mouth and nose. Jean was older, yes. Married too. But he never forgot about his fairy. He said he would marry her one day, had promised her that.

He came across her clearing soon. Still just as young and as beautiful and dressed and nothing a woman that belonged to him would wear. She lay against her willow tree, fiddling with a seam in her dress, a book on the ground forgotten beside her.

Jean leapt across the creek once again, startling her. She leaned back, hands snapping down to brace herself against the dirt.

"You," she hissed, just as she had the last time. "I thought I'd gotten rid of you?"

"I promised," he said with a bow, "I would make you my wife. I will take you and free you from this place, fairy. Bound to this tree and land you will be no more."

She stared, horrified. "No, please. Please just leave me be. Just leave me alone. You cannot take–."

"I can take whatever I want," Jean snapped, "The war showed me that. The Germans. Not just once." He held up a finger. "But every time I watched a friend die, every time my aunt received a letter from the army saying he son was gone. My youth was stolen from me when I watched men get shot and their life taken. So, I will take what I deem to be mine."

"But I have done nothing wrong!" she sobbed, "I have done none of those things! I had not wronged you or stolen your friends or lands or youth!"

"No," he agreed, resting the ax-head on the ground. "But having you will make me feel better." He thought of his wife at home. Poor thing. Too bad. He was getting old anyway.

He lifted the ax up and stalked over to her tree.

"Please!" she sobbed, "Please do not!"

He slammed the sharpened edge into the bark.

She wailed behind me. "You cannot, you cannot, I'll die!"

He froze. "What do you mean?"

She was kneeling on the ground, trees streaking her face. Where they landed on the ground, blooms and flowers faded. "I cannot be parted from my tree, this is true. But it is more than an anchor. It is my home."

Jean looked back between the tree and the woman. He lowered the ax. "I will be back," he said. And then he turned and left.

][][][

Jean retuned. Older, greying. Already mostly grey, to be fair. He carried his sharpened ax with him again. When the Fairy saw him, she hurried to stand up, remaining quiet as he made that leap over the creek. It was harder now, but he could do it.

He stalked over to her tree and plucked several branches from it. Taking them in his hands, he whispered a word or two over them. This was not a man with aptitude for magic. But a few words, with strong intent, it could make even the least-magical magic for only a moment.

Taking the magic branches, he weaved them together in a small crown.

"This will be enough," he said, "for you to follow me."

The fairy eyed him warily. "You are close to dying."

"Yes," Jean said, "But do not worry. Your persistence has encouraged me. I have a son."

She stared at him.

"Put it on," he snapped. "Now. We leave soon."

She took the branches weaved from her tree and slowly placed the crown on her head, silent tear tracks running down her cheeks. He took the ax once, twice, and then thrice more to her tree, each time cutting into it even further.

"This will keep you from returning here, to heal. You are bound to me, now, and then my son. Soon I will return to this to remove it."

"You cannot take from the forest what was never meant to leave," she said, staring at her ancient tree. Her home."

"Well, now your willow has been weakened. Now you belong to me. Follow me, fairy."

She looked at him. "You do not know my name."

He looked at her expectantly. "Then tell me."

She hesitated, then she said, "My Latin name is Aemilius."

He paused for moment. "Mhm. Right. Emilie will do then."

And then Adrien woke up.

][][][


End file.
